My Soulmates are IDOLs (BTS fanfiction)
by tinyeyecat
Summary: In which a broke art student is the soulmate of BTS (bangtan sonyeondan) This is an alternate universe where people wake up on their 20th birthdays to timers on their wrists, strings of fate on their pinkies or even in the body/ beds of their soulmates...etc. The GenZ soulmark however, is one that changes every week.
1. Chapter 1

**"On breaking news today, Scientists have discovered rising numbers of soulmates experiencing the Gen Z Soulmate Phenomenon."**

The newscaster was that of an unfamiliar face. It was usually the same moody bespectacled dude who resembled too much like her uncle to be normal.

Today, however, was an unfamiliar, painted face with thick smears of too light foundation made obvious by the 4K HD Television Screen. The newscaster's lips were overly pink due to the television's hyper-saturation technology. Pupils covered by cheap coloured contacts made obvious by the unglamorous brown cuts of colour on the little cups of plastic.

**"Unlike your usual one-time soul bond such as the common timer mark, red string of fate or colour flood. The Gen Z soulmates are people who will experience more types of soul bonds than usual, with numbers ranging from two to four. The possibilities are endless and chaotic, and some complain to experience changes or additions in a matter of days. For example, a timer marked soulmate could find themselves with an additional compass mark."**

Perhaps the only saving grace would be the newscaster's fashion style. A crisp cut business outfit and pencil skirt paired off with decent studs- Oh wait...Amber winced, lips twitching with disgust.

**"The rising cases have led to numerous alarming issues. One example is the sudden body transfer between Plus CEO Richard Clay, famous for his timer mark, and his soulmate during his product launching speech for the latest smartphone. The incident was alarming and unexpected to both parties having had timer marks since their soul bonded age."**

The look was ruined only because of the slightly browned spot of- was that coffee?- on the edge of her collar. The newscaster smiled and yet again she caught sight of pinked teeth, lipstick having smudged against horrendously yellowed incisors.

Seriously, thank you saturation and sharpness function. Thank You.

"**People experiencing the GenZ soul bond are reminded to stay alert, be cautious and seek help if in sudden unknown situations. Please immediately notify closed family members if GenZ soul bond symptoms are showing or seek help from the nearest Soulmate International Facility in the country. "**

Sometimes Amber wondered if modern technology was that good, and whether you really needed a 4k HD TV to enhance the blemishes of whoever was on screen. It was all fine and dandy when the TV was just a little box of static blurriness.

Perfect for flawless skin.

**"Furthermore on the topic of soul bonds. An alarming study by the University of England revealed that a rising number of males are reportedly being paired off with girls in a polyamory soulbond relationship. "**

Amber blinked raising her brow. Oh?

The newscaster nods almost as if she could see Amber. **"That's right, one female, multiple males. Scientists speculate this to be due to historical female genocides leading to the imbalance of natural genetic exchange."**

Oh damn, reverse harem. Amber stifled a laugh, looks like humanity did screw up something by favouring the male gender in the past.

"**There has yet to be a confirmation but recent cases note that males with close relationships have a higher chance of obtaining the same female soulmate, promising better liveability."**

Well, on the bright side, at least they were all friends.

**"Additionally, females under the polyamory soulmate bond are giving birth to more than one child at a time. Twins are a common occurrence and the average number of children within these households are currently at 5.5 "**

"5.5? Did they split the kid or something?" A sharp clipped voice resounded around the room, heavy with an accent that resulted in exotic lilting tones in her pronunciation. Amber doesn't really know what accent she has because her Mom spoke seven languages and it resulted in an accent that nobody could really pinpoint its origin.

**" Characteristics of a polyamory soulmate bond include having more soulbonds than usual. To date, there has been about thousands of cases worldwide. The most famous case being the Mattner brothers, three famous Hollywood actors who have recently married their 26-year-old Vietnamese soulmate. "**

"It's a math thing, Mom." Amber rolled her eyes, accepting the slice of- bread toasted with butter and sugar- from the porcelain plate. "And I thought you went to University!"

"Ambrosia!" The woman gasped, outraged at her audacity. "I haven't done any Math in 20 years. " She gave her a look, turning back to the kitchen to continue on cooking up lunch. From the smell of it, probably a concoction of oysters and chicken rice. Amber winced at her full and extremely sugary name.

Tsked. Who the hell names their kid Ambrosia?

She picked up the remote control, pressing a few rubbery buttons, slightly broken from years of abuse. The little buggers refused to react and she hammered her index finger hard onto one of the buttons, effectively squishing it down so deep it stayed stuck within the crevices of the plastic.

Damn it, at least that switched the channel.

Low bass thrummed in the air, and a pulsating beat played along to the thrum of a raspy growl executed at a steady rhythm. The familiar sound sends her heart fluttering within her chest.

Amber describes the voice as coffee.

The kind with a smooth mild bodied bitterness, followed by the gasping burn of tongue-tingling chilli in the aftertaste, topped off with generous chips -not cubes, mind you- of ice that had been hammered into shards by a pissed off barista.

But beyond the aggressiveness of that taste is a refreshing chill down her throat- a shiver that runs across her skin- that trickles through her body and behind that cold there's a phantom warmth that dwells in her heart.

God, Amber swallows, her throat suddenly dry. The raspy lilt was not that of a thirsty man, or a wannabe that pushed way too much grunt into song. This was pure effortless sexiness from an inborn voice.

Something any woman wouldn't mind waking up to hear. A growled good morning, masked with sleep.

But his delicious voice isn't the only part of the package deal.

The face that greets her is one not particularly Greek-sculpture perfect. It's not a look that would make her sap endlessly about the symmetry of his nose or the sharpness of cheekbones, airbrushed by some kind of foreign artist from the Baroque period.

Nah, lusting over marble isn't really her thing.

This was thick, low set brows on the softer facial features seen in Asian man afflicted with the gene that prevented the loss of baby fats. Not that he looked anything like a kid.

The slight softness was topped off with teasingly sharp jawline that winked at her with the change of light. Eyes that curved, oval in shape and slightly on the smaller side of the spectrum of all human eyes, set into defined mono-lids which gives his eyes a rounded appearance framed by downward facing lashes.

Those were some thick ass lashes, mind you, which could possibly be a trick of skilful makeup application. The result of spamming eyeliner-Amber's not too sure because the makeup artist is way too skilful in this video- and pale lips stained a creamy red probably from the most recent NARs collection, blended to create a nice gradient from the inner part of his lips to the white of his skin.

His skin was nothing she's never seen. A common shade of pale seen frequently in the Korean male race where sunblock is a must have. His skin was the colour of milk in a saucer, maybe the white of the flesh of steamed fish, perky and soft.

Perhaps the most striking thing that caught her attention would be his hair.

Bleached so white it blended almost effortlessly with his skin, both the same shade of marbled paleness when flashed with a high beam. She digressed that the colour of his hair probably tended more to the side of strawberry white blonde, from the little shades of pink. Silver hoops twinking as he tossed his head back.

Honestly? Not really the face one would squeal over. His good skin and decent features bring himself up the rating from average to above average. A more broody looking face, that rests automatically in a gloomy expression when neutral.

She could continue on with imperfections, but really Amber believes this to be personal preference. It really depends on the individual on whether the size of his eye was considered too small or if his lips were too thin.

To Amber, Yoongi was not a Greek God. He was, however, an Iced Americano with steamed milk. A rich bitter flavour, lingering aroma of coffee and that little hint of caramel sweetness your mind tricks you into tasting even though there was no sugar involved in its creation.

In simpler non-coffee terms, the man exuded charismatic sexuality brought on by just a lazy tilt of his head and the moody hunch of his shoulders.

In other words...

Min Yoongi was freaking hot.

Maybe the 4K HD TV wasn't so bad after all.

She watched, transfixed as he tilts his head to the side, fingers on bloodstained lips which stretched teasingly, almost seductively, a rosy pink tongue flickered out to wet dry lips-

"Making you drip like a faucet with just the flick of my tongue~"

"Ambrosia! Turn off the TV and eat your breakfast! That definitely didn't sound PG13!"

"Aw come on!" Amber huffed. " I'M NOT 13! I'M 19!"

"Y'all screaming at my dirty rap. Oh f*ck sorry, Mom~"

Fitting lyrics. Amber scoffed. And just when the dude was rapping in English too. The universal language of worldwide understanding.

Also conveniently one of the seven languages her life-giver understands.

"AMBROSIA!"

Amber cursed under her breath, sitting up quickly and reaching for the controller that had slipped out of her grasp. Her thumbs slowly hovered over the red button and her eyes followed the body of the rapper on TV.

Damn it. Stop it.

She rammed her fingers into the red button effectively shutting off the TV and possibly ending the remote control's life.

Amber groaned, rubbing her face.

She should stop dwelling on fantasies. Stop thinking she even stood a chance with an idol. There was no way in hell Min Yoongi would ever fall for her. Nor would he even look at her. She was just the one in seven billionth person on the planet. Another small fry in the sea of overpopulation.

He would never stand anywhere close to her. Never hear her voice. Never remember her face. Never know her name.

None of the BTS members would that's for sure.

There was simply no chance that they would ever meet. They were from different worlds. Separated not only by space but by money.

Amber sighed, tapping on her phone and flipping on the application that revealed double digits that determined her current net worth.

She could never afford even the cheapest seat to their concert. Her savings washed away by art materials, dumb shit like resin, polymer clay and the occasional fake grass.

Sure she could beg to her parents, but the both of them were highly concerned over her less than healthy obsession with seven male foreigners that according to her Mom, shook their asses on stage and enticed girls with fake dreams of a perfect soulmate with pretty personalities and heaps of money.

Amber gets it. The videos bleached away their personalities. Like correction tape over a hastily scrawled 'oh shit' on the exam paper, what the fans saw were pretty pink versions of the idols. There's merit to her mom's words. The merit that her mind acknowledges but her heart refuses to accept.

Amber tells herself that there could be more to the pretty face and talent, probably darker secrets and maybe a twisted hidden personality that she would never learn to love.

Anyway, what right did she have to say that she loved them if she didn't even know how they were really like in real life, away from the camera? For all, she knew her love, could just be a warped form of adoration and respect mixed in with a dash of lust.

Amber doesn't know. She's never had a crush on someone before in her entire life and she swears that this adoration to the members in BTS was the closest she would ever get to a full-blown crush.

Amber's more of a silent, anonymous fan that sits behind a keyboard dispelling bad rumours and negative comments that body shame, insult and rip apart at feelings. A keyboard fan that tries to help so that in the event any of the boys were to scroll through the comments in their feed, at least they wouldn't be as attacked by these words.

Amber's happy just by doing these little things.

Besides...Amber took a savage bite into her bread, the sugar crystals sticking to her lips, some falling to the floor. Tomorrow she would be getting her soulbond. Her destined one. The piece to her soul and the person she would fall irrevocably in love with.

Her eyes drifted to her mother's back.

Her Mom? A translator who met her father, a SoulBond researcher, colleagues in the same company. Both were fooled by fate as one of the unlucky few whose soulbonds were undetectable or difficult to identify.

Soul beam. In which the more time you spend with the love of your life, the brighter their skin would glow.

Her mom describes it as fireflies that glimmer softly in the dark or the soft glow of stars in the night sky.

Her dad would launch into a full science lecture about the chemistry and the connection of particles around the air to create energy that emitted the light. Or something along those lines. Ambers not too sure.

It was difficult for her parents to find each other because most of the time they would be seeing one another in a bright office setting with wide windows that allowed the infiltration of the afternoon sun. Suffice to say, it took a while for both of them to realise they were soulmates. The solution involved a faulty lock on a cleaning closet and a clumsy pair of feet.

Amber doesn't know what she wants.

The general understanding was that your soulmate could be found close to your environment. Science engineers found love in science industries. Teachers paired up with teachers. Chefs with servers. Classmates with classmates. Neighbours with neighbours.

Fate was kind in that sense.

Still, long distance was not unheard of. There had been instances of tourists meeting the love of their lives on a trip. People finding their soulmate on social media, streaming sites, tv dramas even in the movie theatre.

Nevertheless, Amber was a normal girl in an average school of average intelligence. Her grades pushed up by hard work and sleepless nights, making her marks a tad higher than the average student. Her passion was in the arts, that was for sure.

But not the performing arts, let alone the music industry.

Amber hated attention, hated being put on the spot. She combusts easily in front of a crowd, her cheeks burning so red a thermometer to her head would read at 38.5 degrees Celsius. A great way to skip school.

This means that the chances of Yoongi being her soulmate were so close to zero you would have to peer through a microscope to see the space between her fingers.

Amber shook her head.

It doesn't matter. Stupid fantasies didn't matter. All that mattered was her soulmate. Reality.

She wants a nice soulmate. Someone who would encourage her love for the arts not shoot it down. Someone who could understand her and would accept her for who she is.

Even the part of her that doesn't love him but loves a group of seven male idols.

Amber sighs, finishing the last of her breakfast and licking the sugar crystals off her fingers.

Next week, one second after the time of her birth, she would get her soul bond. Sealing her fate forever in a twisted world of arranged marriages and fate.

**Notes:**

**I love reverse harem. It's not a new concept in human history, and to this day some cultures still practice it. It's even more common for harem. I have a couple of good friends who are legally allowed by law to have 4 wives.**

**My obsession started with Twilight. I just couldn't stand the thought of Jacob being tossed aside like trash. Like why choose when you can accept all?**

**This fanfiction is actually an original fic. I admit I did want to write it as a BTS fanfiction because BTS is what fuels me to continue typing at my computer.**

**But as I wrote, I realized that my own mind was spinning lies and fake fantasies about them that I was starting to believe. I started to think that whatever I read online about BTS was true.**

**EG: Yoongi cursing a lot and being the meanest.**

**It's not. That's the thing. Us ARMYs will never know their true personalities and so I decided to upload it as an original fiction on .**

**But then, I showed the fic to one of my buddies (a fellow army who got me into BTS) she loved it so much...(Hot scenes are her fav) she wanted to read it with BTS names so...**

**I'm posting this up here for her.**


	2. Chapter 2

The coffee is warm in her hand. So hot that the heat radiates out of the corrugated cup at an almost unbearable temperature. Amber stared blankly at the pavement, watching the rain wash away dirt and dead leaves that spiralled and swirled down the drain.

She crossed her legs, taking a sip from her cup. The taste is cloying bitterness that leaves a horrid gritty aftertaste that makes her gag slightly. Amber pursed her lips setting the hot acid down onto the table.

The coffee tasted like what she pictured ditch water would taste like.

She should have just made her own mix in the morning. A concoction of way too much condensed milk with coffee, a thick hearty sludge that made her body scream "TYPE 2 DIABETES!" but her tongue sing with praises.

"Amb!"

She glanced up barely seeing a blurred flicker of her best friend's newly coloured red hair and she's tackled with the familiar sweet smell that reminds her of clean linen and soft comforters. It reminds her of afternoons lying on the grass watching the sky and the sound of joyous giggles.

"MiRi!"

Her mood lifts and genuine joy erupts from her being as she watched the smaller girl ease into the opposing chair after a hug that lasted a good 5 minutes. Her lips tilt upwards as she observed her best friend fumble about with her bag. She's dressed so stylishly, Amber could scarcely believe it was the same girl.

A year ago she would have been dressed in dull single coloured t-shirts, long pants and the same worn out shoes. Now, her best mate's accessorized. Something she's never expected to see. A black beanie over her head paired with an ultramarine jacket and leather boots. A band of gold with a single black gem wrapped around her ring finger.

Then she's pulling off her hat revealing a messy floof. MiRi's rusty red hair dragged into a scrunchy, a few strands having escaped the holds of the worn out pink with a badly embroidered 'Amb's BFF' on the surface.

Amber laughs at the familiarity, standing to ruffle her besties hair a bit more before sitting back down.

MiRi was her best friend from her preteen days. She's counted and this is their eighth year of being besties. They had been stuck at the hip, hugging for days, so close she was sure her teachers thought them to be soulmates.

It's only when MiRi gets her soul bond, way too early to be normal, that shit gets real.

Amber grimaced at the memory.

MiRi has the flicker bond. Usually, the older of the two soulmates has to wait for the younger one to reach the age of 20 before the soulbond activates, but this was not the case for MiRi.

Deok-Su's four years older than them, lives in South Korea and was the 'luckier' one of the two in the flicker soul bond. Her cute and innocent MiRi had flickered into the bed of 20 year old Deok-Su a day before their mid-year exams. According to MiRi, it had been a morning of repeated screaming and pillow bashing on her part. The poor Deok-Su had frantically tried to use extremely broken English in an attempt to explain that he had not kidnapped her.

That week had been hell, a whirlwind of trial and errors, with MiRi flickering right beside Deok-Su the minute she too far from him in the most awkward of situations and the both of them falling ill when they're apart for too long. It was painful but MiRi had to leave and take classes in South Korea. The flicker didn't act up when they had sufficient cuddling each day.

Amber winced. There was once when MiRi appeared right smack in the middle of Deok-Su's meetings. The man was a genius music producer who worked for big name companies under the guise of the name RibidK. MiRi appearing in her old pyjamas right in front of some of the world's richest music CEOs had not been fun.

Amber remembers weeks of MiRi's tearful homesick sobs that later turned into shy girly giggles and dreamy looks of love. The tears still come sometimes but Deok-Su was the kindest male she's ever met. The things he's done for her are endless but the one that strikes Amber the most is when he had spent long nights studying English till 4 am in the morning each day just to make MiRi's life better as quickly as possible.

Theirs was honestly one of the best soulmate stories she's ever heard.

Now with a ring on her finger and the brightest of smiles on her face, MiRi looks so happy she might just start spitting rainbows.

"Deok-Su's bought me this hat and this jacket! It's the softest thing I've ever worn Amb! He's so so so kind! The other day he drove all the way to get my favourite soup dumplings. You know? The kind we both like with thin chewy skin. He drove all the way to Myeongdong just because I said I missed it. You know it was just an offhand remark I wasn't even serious!"

Amber nods, smiling softly as her lovesick best friend prattled on endlessly as if it's the first year of their relationship but really they've long passed their third anniversary.

"Oops sorry." MiRi pauses, laughing softly. Her sweet airy voice was light and pretty to her ears. MiRi's the kind of person you expect to be dressed in pink and pastel, she's all soft and fluffy. The cutest person she's ever met. But too bad society, stereotypes are always far from reality. "I forgot myself. That's probably not what you want to know."

"Naw," Amber drawls, emphasizing on the 'W' just because she can. "I'm a fanfiction author trash. That sounds like a good romantic scenario to me." She winks at her and MiRi gives her an amused look.

"You're not writing lemons about me are you..."

"Um, excuse me!" Amber splutters, giving MiRi her best disgusted expression. Tongue out, spasming left eye and all. "That's flipping disgusting!"

Lemons, the connotation for basically literary porn on fanfiction. Also, Amber's guilty pleasure. Not that she'll ever admit it.

"Wait let me guess," MiRi taps her chin, "it's not me. You write lemons about BTS."

Amber swallows, attempting to hide the stiffness of her body at MiRi's words.

MiRi smirked, her grin growing wider as she gives Amber her famous I-got-you-you-stupid-shit look.

MiRi continues, effortlessly switching to Korean, a language that Amber says she learns for MiRi but really she's learnt it more for her idols.

"Even worse. You write slash fics of all the members paired with each other. Let me guess, the maknaes (younger members) bottom while the hyungs (older members) top."

Amber choked on her saliva wheezing. She takes a swig out of her coffee and the disgusting thing was so hot it brings tears to her eyes. She gives MiRi her best what-the-flipping-shit look but her reddening cheeks that are exactly the same shade of MiRi's new hair gives her naughty deeds away.

Honestly, those fanfictions were just fantasies...Just harmless thoughts shared to a specific target audience online. Besides, it's not like the BTS members would ever read it. It's in English after all and only two of the members can speak it fluently.

"You yaoi fangirl!" MiRi cackles and Amber blows air out of her pouting lips. Her best friend, while small and adorable in looks and voice was secretly extremely evil.

"Urgh...MiRi stop teasing me okay? I'm thirsty like that because unlike you I don't have a hot dude warming my sheets every night." Amber huffed and MiRi's cheeks pinked at her words. Aw...So they did have sex every night.

Dang.

Amber mentally completes the Ice Bucket Challenge to her subconsciousness in an attempt to douse the rising thoughts of her naked best friend and a naked Deok-Su.

Bouncing in the bed.

Damn it.

Her phone buzzes and Amber swipes on the cracked screen grateful for a distraction. The old thing had been with her since 2014 and while battered and bruised having survived the apocalypse called A-Clumsy-Teenager. Amber's a little too attached to change it. That and her wallet's too starved to be capable of vomiting out that much cash to replace it.

Her eyes linger at the notification panel, pupils widening at the familiar heart symbol.

BTS (방탄소년단) WHERE ARE YOU 어디에 'SIGN' Comeback Trailer

Her heart flutters in almost anticipation and she glanced up to look at MiRi. Her lips stretching into a smile without her knowing it.

"BTS just released their new comeback trailer!"

"Oh now?" MiRi's eyes widened and checked her own phone. She beamed brightly. "I want to watch it too! Deok-Su co-wrote the melody. " MiRi clambers over to her and perches herself on the armrest of her chair as MiRi hastily clicks on the play button, quickly increasing the volume.

The screen flashes and Amber's eyes are blessed by the image on her phone screen. It's reminiscent of Salar de Uyuni, the salt flats in Bolivia. What she sees reflecting into her eyes from the pixels of her phone is a flat plain of water that reflects the sky perfectly, mirroring white fluffy clouds. Sticking out tall from the bed of water are ornate white pillars that teamed with huge roses at its tips and dripped with teardrop-like crystals that reflect the light of the sun.

The camera pans in close to a lone figure at the centre, who is dressed in a long sleeved white shirt that puffs out slightly, an indication of the loose lightness of the material. In contrast to its softness, layers of beaded crystals were draped over his shoulders, like an intricate spider web that glimmered with dew. Black skinny jeans clung tightly to his hips held in place by a loosely strung black plaited rope with leather shoes on his feet.

Amber flicks her tongue out subconsciously wetting drying lips.

The face that greets her vision is that of a doll's.

Unlike Yoongi, Jimin is characterized by a sharp jawline framed by high cheekbones that cut flatly down a small face and close in to form a thin and rather sharp chin. Soft ashy blonde locks artfully dusted the tips of thick brows the hazel hues in his hair bringing out the tiny reflected redness of each gem that is draped over his body.

From memory, Amber knows that when this boy smiles. The flat cheeks transform into little adorable puffs of pink-tinged rounded lumps.

Jimin's cheeks are Mochi. Chewy and soft yet thick and heavy to the bite. Mochi sticks to your teeth but melts and tears apart easily with saliva and Amber has the mental image of taking a bite out of his smiling cheeks just for fun.

The idol tilts his head up, huge eyes meeting the camera head-on into a deep stare that reveals whisky brown contacts. This was not perfect almonds on a bed of white soft mochi. This was a droopy shape that Amber can only describe as a slanted rectangle without the harsh edges of angles and cuts. Long lashes slant downwards, brushing against pale cheeks as he blinks.

His eyes are Amber's second favourite part about him and when he smiles, they curve into little moons of happiness with little pouches of fat underneath those eyes.

Smiling eye bags.

Something many Asian girls have gone under the knife for.

And this male specimen has it naturally with the perfect amount of fat and angle, like the marbled meat of A-grade Japanese Kobe Beef.

This was an A-grade male specimen.

But this music video bears no hint of the soft sunny vibes of his smile.

Rather, his slightly flat nose, not too sharp yet not too squished, is brushed and contoured to appear sharper than it is. The soft rusty chocolate shades of eyeshadow melt into a line of soft hazelnut brown that emphasizes on the shape of his eyes and when he purses his lips, Amber's heart races so fast it almost hurts.

Those lush plump dollops of red remind Amber of pink lined marshmallows. Makeup gives them a perfect red to a pink gradient, shimmery with gloss that makes it look much more softer and much more kissable. Amber's face warms at the thought and when his eyes droop a little lower and he tilts his head a little higher.

His gaze is seductive, yet sad.

Standing before her eyes is a prince decked in crystals, with the prettiest and plumpest heart-shaped lips.

If he weren't in BTS, Amber swears he could be a model. A lip model.

Still, Amber is probably shrouded by the hearts in her eyes because the hate comments online for Jimin is always about everything she loves.

He looks like a kid.

He looks girly because of his huge eyes, plump lips and smaller frame.

He looks fat because his cheeks are plump and bulge when he smiles.

Stupid people hating on things Jimin should never have to feel self-conscious for but instead, love and appreciate because to Amber these were the features that made him unique and beautiful.

"Jimin's so pretty isn't he?" Amber vaguely hears MiRi's voice chimed beside her ear. Her eyes zoned onto the aesthetic prince before her.

**"Phantom whispers of your voice in my sleep~"**

As he begins to sing, it feels as if she's doused in something warm and sweet. Her whole body clenches and shivers in a good way. Goosebumps popping over her skin. The mellifluous tone of his voice is another different type of coffee.

**"I see your shadow at the corners of my eyes~"**

Jimin's voice is a sea salt caramel latte. The first taste is the tangy scent of caramel, so sweet it dances across the tongue but then the hints of salt mellow out the sweetness smoothening the flavour to an almost savoury mouthful. The mellow sweetness of the drink coupled with the slightly bitter tang of coffee tricks the mind into thinking the taste is one of chocolate.

Then there are little chips of caramel chocolate bits and flecks of almonds that translate into the sinful grunts and little crackles in his higher than average voice.

The whole vibe of the song changes from that of an angel to that of an incubus as his lips stretch into a smile and his fingers crawl over his chest, body popping to the beat of the music.

**"Am I a pervert for dreaming of skin I've not tasted on my lips~"**

Jimin is an enigma. Pretty and sweet like a prince. He's easily one of the cutest boys she's ever seen in her life. No one expected him to be a force to reckon with at sexual songs.

Something almost seems to snap within him when his eyes droop and his voice dips into a rumbled moan.

**"I feel like a predator and you are my prey."**

The video flashes and Amber watched transfixed as the graphics switch to rain that pelter onto the surface of the lake, ripples obscuring the mirror of dark purple storm clouds.

Jimin has a blindfold over his eyes, his clothes were sticking to his skin from the wetness of rain. The thin fabric does nothing to hide the small hints of pink nipples obscured by the gems draped over his skin. The wet fabric clings to fibrous abdominal oblique muscles and the light bumps of newly forming abs. It dips into his belly button and rises slightly to reveal deep V-line muscles at the ends of his body.

It doesn't help that his hips are dipping into skilful thrusts that curve into steps that reveal the taut perkiness of his ass.

His dance moves were walking on a thin line between dancing and strip show, but for some reason, he manages to make every move a professional and artistic swing of hips.

"Oh f*ck me." Amber can barely stop the curse from escaping her lips.

"I knew you would say that!" MiRi giggles.

**"Am I being punished for the sins of my previous life~"**

He bites his lips, teeth sinking into the soft muscles. Then he's spinning on his feet, jumping so high above the water as his feet swings underneath him. They sweep against the ground and droplets of water swirl around him creating an ethereal picture in the air.

**"Did I fall so hard in love with you that I've done something unspeakable~"**

The video flashes and he's dragged underwater by invisible forces.

Amber's breath hitches at the sight of the merman. His fluffy locks are afloat and little bubbles escape his nostrils. His clothes below around him floating and swirling in the water. The necklace of gems glittering under the light.

The most beautiful sight would be the little ripples of light that caress his face, combing across his skin in waves and reflecting his eyes.

His body shakes and suddenly his mouth opens to let a burst of air bubbles escape. He claws at his throat and kicks his legs in a struggle for air. Amber sincerely hopes that it's a special effect scene because her heart squeezes so painfully at the sight she's breathless and dizzy.

**"I'm drowning in need for you to be mine~"**

The video switches in between shots.

He's submerged at one moment, dancing in another and nose pressed to a rose in the next scene. The sheer stage design, choreography and videography are more than just beautiful.

It leaves Amber so awestruck, her mind can scarcely keep up with absorbing all the information.

This was a work of art led by an artwork himself.

**"Save me from this pain, let me breathe again~"**

Amber's breath hitches as his voice soars into octaves higher than so many girls out there. Amber swallows as his voice climbs higher and higher reaching its peak. A peak that sends her body shivering with musical chills. His voice stimulating her brain so much that it encourages dopamine to flood into her.

**"Show me a sign~"**

The video ends with the slow crawl of water over his beautiful face until it completely submerges him. His lips forming words. English words.

**"Let me have a taste of Ambrosia~"**

He gasps and the video cuts.

**Notes:**

**Just a heads up that this is an alternate universe. I won't be following the actual BTS history. I'm just using their aesthetics.**

**I also won't be using the same songs as well...Why? Um...if I use any song lyrics at all it's in relation to the soul bond. I don't see the point of pasting in song lyrics that we all already know.**

**EG of a major change: Jin is now Japanese so that I can write stuff like a Hanami date (sakura viewing). HUEHUEHUEHUE.**

**Cultural diversity is the best! Don't worry, I'll introduce them properly so that you'll remember who is from where.**

**I update faster on and Wattpad! :) But it's an original story there...**


	3. Chapter 3

Amber sits stunned into a stupor. Her eyes staring blankly at the screen. Did she just hear that correctly? She doesn't even know that her mouth hanged wide open until she snaps it shut to look at MiRi.

The girl laughs, twirling with red strands of hair.

"I might just have given him inspiration with your name."

Amber's eyes widened. It doesn't help that blood pounds in her ears and the upper part and lower part of her body still burns from watching Jimin seduce the pants off millions of girls worldwide while slipping in her name.

To be completely fair, the word Ambrosia is not exactly hers to keep. It did tickle her fancy that her name was actually the reason for his usage in a twisted way of how fate works. Scratch that.

She might be relieving her horny ass with that soundtrack on repeat at this rate.

"YOU DID NOT!" Amber gaped at her. "HOW?"

MiRi laughs brightly. "All I told Deok-Su was: Hey don't you think Amber's full name is great as a song lyric? "

"SHUT UP! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO FEEL!" Amber groaned, plonking her head onto the table. "What am I going to do now? You and Deok-Su are ruining me for my own soulmate, damn it!"

Amber pointedly glanced up to look straight into MiRi's dark brown eyes letting her best friend catch a glimpse of the state of her cheeks. A shade so red it might as well be a tomato.

Don't get her wrong. Amber is happy, so deliriously happy that her body feels light and so full of energy.

"How am I ever going to feel a greater level of happiness for a boy saying my name?" Amber wailed, pressing her hands to her eyes in exasperation.

"Uh...When your future son says Mama?"

"That isn't even my name! That's the word MAMA!" Amber whined. "MiRi!"

"Oh fine, poor dear." MiRi chuckles patting her hair. "I'm a great best friend aren't I?"

"The best," Amber grumbled out.

"Aw, I'm surprised. I thought you would yell at me a bit more." MiRi giggles behind her palm, her ring winking in the light. Amber sulks at that thought, her love-starved mind grumbles about evil best friends who ruined people's future love lives. "I'm sorry but it was partially your birthday present."

"Because initially, as an apology, I wanted to get you this." MiRi fishes around in her bag and pulls out a neat little card. Amber frowns taking the thing from her and reading it carefully.

"Seoul Olympic Stadium? You know I hate sports, don't you? I mean, football ain't my thing-" Amber pauses when she flips open the card. The familiar name stared back at her in bold printed letters.

**B.**

**T.**

**S.**

**Listen to Me. World Tour. Category 1.**

Then the date of her birthday, January 19th, and a time, 7.30pm.

Amber doesn't even think. She sits looking at the tickets, blinking rapidly and just reading the words over and over again. Her heart swimming with emotions. Her mind flashing with emotions.

Amber loves BTS.

That was a fact.

It's not simply because she's physically attracted to them. Her love was more than just a lust for beautiful Asian men. It was never about their beauty.

It's partially their music. The lyrics that resounded so strongly with their own personal voices, the music that they sang with so much emotion that she can feel it even through a digital device after going through thousands of editing.

Most of all, she's fallen for them because of how hard they've worked to get to where they are today. She fell for how high they jumped as they danced, fell for how strongly they moved to the beat, fell for the boys who stood to dance despite being close to fainting.

They never gave up in pursuit of their dreams and that was what pulled Amber through so many cruel deadlines and harsh realities over the years.

Because if BTS could do everything and even more.

So could she.

"Hello? Did I just break you?" MiRi smiled at her softly and Amber finds her vision going blurry and her eyes heavy and wet with tears.

Damn it. She didn't want to cry. Amber tries to suck the tears back in, blinking rapidly and smiling brightly at her best friend.

"You didn't have to. You shouldn't have." Amber whispers. Her voice breaks, heavy with emotions. Her mind flutters to all those nights struggling under the weight of stress. She's calmed herself down to the tunes of BTS's songs, laughed to their fan videos after spending hours weeping, slept to the sound of their voices like a lullaby.

Their music has always been the remedy to many things...Stress, Anger, Sadness, Depression.

To listen to them live would be a dream come true.

"Of course I did." MiRI laughs taking her hand. "You've helped me so much over the years and I just wanted to do something for you, you know? So I asked Deok-Su to get me two tickets directly from BigHit Entertainment. Ya know, since he's their music producer he's got a leg up to these kinds of things. He basically just said he wanted to watch BTS's concert with his wife and they handed him the tickets with a word of thanks."

"Oh wait. It's Deok-Su's tickets? I shouldn't-"

"Calm your tits, my girl." MiRi giggles at her flustered expression. "Deok-Su's got a business meeting in Australia on that date. He said it's your birthday present from him. A thank-you-for-taking-care-of-my-wife ticket."

"Aw you guys." Amber's voice crackles, wet with tears and she sniffs as her nose clogs up with tears. She could feel them, warm wet and sticky crawling down her face. "You're too good to me."

"Oh my gosh. Don't cry." MiRi laughs, wrapping her arms around her gently rubbing soothing pats on Amber's back.

"I'm happy. You know that." Amber garbles, tears wetting MiRi's shoulders.

"I thought I would finally hear you scream." Amber could hear the smile in MiRi's words. "I didn't expect waterworks. You're such a cutie, Ambs." MiRi giggles.

"I don't scream, you know that," Amber replied. "I mean I can, and I feel like doing it but...We're at a coffee shop MiRi! I'll look like I'm crazy!" Amber ends her words in a hiss, rubbing tear stains away with the corners of her sleeves. They part from their hug and MiRi pats her cheeks gently.

"Polite queen." MiRi ruffles her hair. "Although, I'm sorry that it's on your birthday."

Amber froze. She was born at 10.30pm, which was technically speaking, right after the concert. If anything were to happen like a teleportation soul bond, a flicker bond like MiRI's or worse, a body exchange. It technically should make it just in time for the end of the concert. Plus, if it were truly a body exchange. It didn't matter.

Her soulmate would just have to accept her love for BTS. She was done with trying to relinquish her love for those boys. They were honestly her rock in this turbulent world and she was sure that she would still be listening to the same tunes even with a lover at her side to calm frazzled nerves.

This love was simply just meant to be.

"I'm okay with it." Amber finally replies to MiRi. "If it really is body exchange," Amber gave MiRi a wicked smile. "You're the one who has to deal with it anyway."

MiRi giggles. "I promise to protect your body. I mean how hard can it be? In fact, with your love for BTS, there's a 50% chance dude might just be at the same concert."

"I wish." Amber replied, sipping at her chilling shit tasting coffee. She downs it in one gulp.

"There's no way that fate would be that good to me."

Famous last words.

They arrive in Seoul on Thursday night via a business class flight on Singapore Airlines. The exorbitant price had sent Amber reeling and practically on her knees, desperate to persuade her bestie that a broke girl like her should not be worthy of such luxuries.

Plus, she could scarcely pay MiRi back for all that she would be forking up for her during the entire trip.

Cue empty bank sound. Well, at least whatever that sounded like.

Her bestie had declined with excuses like: 'There's no way you can get a cheap budget airline at this time!'-very true- and 'you think I would buy your tickets to a Seoul concert without buying your aeroplane tickets or booking you a hotel room? I'm not that stupid or evil!'

Trust MiRi to treat Amber's declines as an insult to her person.

The flight had been amazing. Amber had gorged herself on the business class lounge food even before she had stepped into the aircraft.

Amber calls it stress eating. MiRi calls it Amber-being-super-cheap-and-trying-to-eat-out-the-whole-cost-of-the-flight. Like the cheapo she was, Amber had hoarded all the freebies into her bag and consumed every on flight refreshment they could offer to her fat ass even opting for a few glasses of champaign.

Amber's pretty sure the steak they offered for lunch had been one of the best she's ever eaten in her middle-class life and it screwed with her mind that science supposedly proclaimed that tastebuds were supposed to be duller when on flights.

Now it gets her really wondering exactly how good that steak must have been on land.

After a thousand cups of apple juice and Amber taking a dump a good five times on flight to relief herself off the excess carbs. They touch down in Incheon Airport at midnight and speed off to the hotel in a black Porsche. That in which was driven by a burly Korean chauffer with a neck thicker than her thighs and biceps that were twice the size of her waist.

She's pretty sure he could snap her neck with just a flick of his fingers.

MiRi had flippantly explained the car to be one of Deok-Su's and the driver was there because Deok-Su didn't trust her driving skills. MiRi had scowled after that comment with a loud huff about paranoid husbands.

Amber has never doubted Deok-Su's fame as a music producer, but right now, with the obvious flaunt of wealth, it's safe to say he's richer than she expected.

So it's no surprise that the place of their stay is a five-star hotel with a Michelin-starred restaurant, a commonplace of stay for Deok-Su during business trips to Seoul. At this point, Amber could vomit from the amount of money they were spending with just this trip, not like she wanted to know. Ignorance is bliss and MiRi is an angel.

That and she's overflowing with apple juice and her bladder is bursting with too much pee so the minute they step into the lobby she's hurtling down the halls towards the toilet signs, too preoccupied with thoughts of pee to even step to the counter to check the bill with MiRi

Amber has no doubt that seeing the number would have definitely sent her pee flowing down her legs and all over the pristine white rugs.

She's pretty sure she would have woken up the entire hotel with the sound of her loud flailing stomps to the toilet if not for the thick carpeted rugs. At 3 am in the morning, she really doesn't blame the staff but the female toilet was shut with the 'cleaning-in-progress' board propped up.

Basically, Amber's screwed.

She's tried to enter. She's peaked in, in hopes that the signboard was a lie. Of course, it was not, and the toilet bowls were all ladened with bleach and sprayed with lime green cleaning liquid. If she didn't want to risk skin tissue damage she's better off not seating on that toilet bowl, especially with the BTS concert being so close to the date.

If she has to miss the concert just because she sat on a toilet bowl she would literally kill herself.

Honestly, a figure of speech but Amber's better off not risking it.

She dances outside the toilet, prancing around in a weird pee dance for a few seconds in contemplation as the other familiar stickman symbol stared at her with obvious judgement. The thing bored down at her ominously, like the clock in the exam room when there are 5 seconds left and she's scribbling squiggly unreadable lines across the paper.

God. Amber almost wants to scream in frustration if not for the fact that it's 3 am and she's in one of the most expensive hotels she's ever stepped into. Amber's more of a cheap deals girl. Her gotos are dingy little motels with rugs stained with yellowed liquids and pillows possibly drenched with human waste judging by its smell.

With no other option and her pee slowly dripping out of her, a quick glance into the non-existent eyes of the familiar stickman symbol sends Amber sliding into the boy's toilet which looked just as sparkly and clean as the entire place.

She dashes into an empty cubicle and slams the door counting down seconds as relief is finally achieved and her bladder sighs in sheer happiness.

Freedom. Said the Pee.

When you got to go, you got to go. It was honestly either this or the shiny waxed floors of the hotel.

When in the face of two great evils, pick the lesser evil.

Amber's new motto of the day.

As she wipes herself down ready to leave, the soft squeaky pads of flip flops on waxed floors echoes across the toilet as the door is flung open to reveal a moment of ambient hotel noise before it closes with a soft bang and the toilet is once again an enclosure of little happy piano tunes from the speakers of the toilet.

Oh shit. Amber froze, her breath hitching in her throat. She pressed her lips together in anticipation as the footsteps trail to the cubicle beside hers. Just her luck. The steps are light and soft but whoever was beside her cubicle was wearing cheap plastic on his feet and it made a horrendous squeak across the waxed floors.

The sound bounces and resounds around echoing with the soft piano keys that played from the speakers in the toilet, almost in time to the sound her racing heart.

Shit.

With bated breath, she waits for the sound of the lock. The minute she hears the clumsy snap of the metal against metal, she's tearing through the cubicle towards the taps (hygiene is still the key to health) shoving her hands under the automatic tap-

-Only to be met by a few seconds of awkward air hanging time.

If you photoshopped her out of the toilet, Amber swears would have looked like a joke. Thousands of internet trolls would have placed her with golf clubs and hockey sticks. Her hands slapped together and reached out in an almost exaggerated prayer, with her ass sticking out behind her like she's faking it way too hard.

Damn it, technology. She cursed under her breath and tries the next one but to no avail.

When she finally figures out the mechanics, she's met with sweet sweet bubbly flow of water and she furiously rubs her hands together. The water droplets spew out from her hands, spraying across her thick, baggy black hoodie. She's sure she's got half the water stream onto her jacket.

She's ready to make a run for it. Ready to escape the depths of male secrecy and take this secret to her grave only for a deep baritone to emit from the dreaded cubicle.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Sorry, but could you pass me some tissue?" The voice is low and crisp, heavy from possibly sleep. It's the kind of natural deepness that Amber has troubles guessing his age by just his voice alone, especially with her mind frantically switching to its Korean filter.

Amber swallows. Her mind spinning but her kind feet is already moving towards the cubicle. Her fingers subconsciously pulling out wads of tissue from the dispenser. She knelt reaching downwards into the cubicle with her hands outstretched.

Mentally, the scaredy-cat side of her is cursing at her for her stupidity, because staying any second longer in this toilet might end her with a police complaint for harassment. The other side of her is singing angel praises for her guts and kindness towards this poor bare ass stranger.

No one likes to poop and find out there's no toilet paper. That's just horrible. The person on the other side must agree to this because he takes the whole wad from her quickly like the squirrel from Ice Age after his acorn.

Fast.

"Thank You." The guy replies sweetly and coupled with the deepness of his voice it's like dripping honey into a cup of well-roasted black coffee. Amber's a bit too frazzled to really give a detailed food description of his voice but that doesn't deny it's velvet beauty.

Or the things it does to her already exhausted body.

What she doesn't expect was for the toilet door to suddenly pull open. What a fast ass wiper, her traitorous mind comments.

For a second, her vision is engulfed by someone really tall and young. He was dressed in a soft white cotton shirt and black track pants, a black silky bathrobe wrapped around his shoulders. She spins away quickly only to be hit by his smell.

No, it was definitely not the smell of shit nor the smell of artificial air freshener from the toilet.

It smelled-Amber swallowed, her skin tingles at the scent-good.

Above that delicious scent is the soft warmness of his shampoo or body soap, subtle floral sweetness with berry notes and a woody undertone. Under all that is something she just can't quite put her finger to.

It's musky and masculine. Deep and spicy. It's something she's never smelled in her entire life and she could only describe it as the flare from Sichuan peppercorn, the sweetness of pine and maybe the aroma of roasting tea leaves?

God, whatever the hell it was, it was the best scent she's smelled in her entire life.

She wants to bottle that smell, take long sniffs and sell it by the dozens. Seriously, whatever that perfume was it was hella good.

Amber blinks a little dazed, feeling stupid because her mouth floods with saliva at the thought and she's so embarrassed she can't bear to look at the guy because-

Was she becoming a cannibal or something? Why the hell is she salivating over a man?

Against her better judgement, because it's 3 am and she's stupid. Her idiotic mouth opens and she asks a really dumb question that should have revealed her gender.

"What did you use to make yourself smell so good?" Her Korean is a little misused and her voice cracks and dips at places which thankfully must make her sound like a prepubescent boy because the stranger doesn't react in angered shock.

Instead, there's a pause and a low chuckle. The kind that is crackly like a warm fire, rich and spicy like Manuka honey. A chuckle that sends her head swimming and her face heating up because it just sounded that good to her horny body. The sound burns and twirls into a fire that sinks well below her waist.

"Body Soap?" The faceless male figure replies. Faceless because Amber's still staring downwards away from his eyes or face. It's not too good to stare someone down, especially if you look extremely girly and you stand in the man's toilet.

Then he blurts out a familiar house brand that Amber knows should smell of Lavender and should explain the floral sweetness that masks the original delicious scent.

Amber dazedly watches as he continues to struggle with the tap, swiping his hands under the sensor over and over. His long limbs, however, definitely made his awkward poses less ugly as hers must have looked minutes ago.

She can't help it. Part of her, kind and loving, urged her to take a step to help him. The other part was eager for another sniff. Just one more before they part ways and never meet again. So she steps forward and quickly takes his hands moving it to the perfect spot for the sensor to take action.

What happens next is nothing she can ever imagine.

**Notes:**

**Final disclaimer that this is actually an original story on that IS inspired by BTS. I think you can totally tell from my descriptions of their voices and looks.**

**Although I'm making it a point to change it up a little with descriptions of extra moles/freckles/scars...**

**What this means is that :**

**1) If you read on my Wattpad, in which I update faster (because I update every 1000 words instead of an entire full chapter like I do on AO3), I changed their names. So the BTS boys are actors in my story?**

**TBH I write with the changed names...It kind of acts as a personal reminder that I'm writing fiction and not reality.**

**2)I will NEVER discontinue this story...Because it's an original story so I plan to publish it one day on Amazon along with the other reverse harem authors in the world. (I will probably get an editor...WHEEHEE I love reverse harem)**

**Well, I hope this clears up everything...If you don't want to learn new names...XD Just wait a lil I'll update soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

Amber's electrocuted herself once. She had accidentally touched open wire while trying to fix the wiring of a desktop in school. Her muscles had clenched and spasmed in protest, an oddly painful sensation that sends her nerves into shock and her body stiff from the sudden attack. A buzzing sensation that she never wants to experience again.

This was nothing like that.

This was a sudden jerk to her senses as if she had always been underwater, submerged in beds of cotton drenched in alcohol. It was like a burst of pleasant energy accompanied by little pleasurable shivers that spread across her skin. Kind of like the sudden gush of energy after a short sweaty afternoon jog that you get after a morning of sleepy drowsiness fuelled by hours of lectures.

It lighted an inner warmth she's never known needed to be a lighted, a soothing heat that quells all her feelings of anxiety and fears. It was like taking a sip of hot chocolate in front of a crackly fire after hours outside in a blizzard. It warms you inside, making cheeks pink and bodies tingle.

Sweet, warm and comforting electricity.

That's the only way she can describe the feeling that courses up her body in waves at his touch.

Electricity.

She's feeling all that within that mere second of their touch and it elicits a gasp from her lips, mirrored by a sharp intake of breath from him.

In her moment of shock, her eyes automatically snap up to meet his and what greets her is a familiar face that she only sees on TV screens.

A bared face boy with soft white-blonde locks, slightly wet and frizzy from a recent shower stared down at her. Some strands of his hair were slightly stuck to each other from beads of water and darker at certain areas where new hair grew.

His hair stood out cutely in a messy rumple of sharp wet flops and spikes. His hair was parted in the centre, brushed to gently cover thick dark brows that while well-shaped and possibly threaded were larger and thicker than most Asian men.

It was paired with one of the most aesthetically shaped noses Amber has seen in her life of online images and youtube videos. He had a higher and sharper nose bridge than most, a little bulky at the centre but nothing that sullied his handsome face. His looks were coupled off with a chiselled, heart-shaped face, not too thin nor too soft.

Just right, would be what Goldilocks would say if she ever saw such a male specimen.

His face was, topped off like chocolate shavings to ice cream, with rose pink lips on the thinner side and a little beauty mark at the corner of his right eye, a small dark brown dot. Lips that were soft and a little shimmery with moisturizer or saliva. Amber couldn't really tell because at that moment with his lips parted like this to reveal peaks of squared teeth, his tongue darted out quickly to wet drying lips.

What scared her the most, or rather, turned her on the most were those beguiling, doe-shaped eyes framed by dark lashes that were angled downwards and inlaid with dark brown orbs. Eyes that were a chocolate brown but yet just light enough for her to see the slight change in colour to pupils that were dilating slightly. They bored into hers, flickering with a variety of emotions as her eyes darted across his features so fast she's sure she must have looked a little crazy, like cartoon characters with swirls in their eyes.

At that moment Amber's noticing things she never knew, like how one of his eyes has more crease than the other folding into lids of the skin or how fine and pale his skin was save for the little impurities, pink scars of adolescence at his left cheek. Maybe it's the way his eyes glistened from the bathroom light with sleepy tears or how one side of his lashes is shorter than the other. Then it's the fact that he's actually really tall despite the flip flops, towering over her by a good head and to be honest Amber's not that short in the spectrum of Asian women heights.

Suffice to say. He was the most ridiculously handsome male she's ever seen in real life and he was staring at her with such burning intensity she's sure she might combust. It's the same look on his face when he models for photos, a smouldering look that conceals his emotions.

Emotions that swirl deep within those brown orbs as they dart across her face. Pupils dilating and focusing again and again.

Then she's realizing more than just that. Maybe the closeness of their faces, the soft exhales of his breath that drifts to her in minty toothpaste wafts. The way his eyelashes flutter over his cheeks when he blinks.

Even better was the light flush of pink on his cheeks that stained the pale beige hue in a pretty rose. The colour travels to his ears to blossom is a stunning red.

Absolutely adorable.

The spell is broken by the sudden rush of cold icy water on their palms as the sensor, finally decides to work and the both of them jerk away. She's flinching back, stepping one huge awkward step away from him. Her legs parting like the red sea.

The sudden loss of that pleasant energy is like a cold slap to the face. It's the sudden replacement of chillness that sends her longing for more and she resists the urge to wrap cold fingers around her arms.

One huge step that elicits a smirk from him, a smile that turns her legs to jelly and her heart beating so hard she fears it might escape from her chest.

It's the smile that kills her nerve and reminds her of the current situation.

Then she's turning and dashing away as fast as her little legs could carry her as her mind blasts his name loud and clear like the loudspeaker they use on sports day. It's just her luck that the elevator door is open and MiRi's directing their chauffeur in with their luggage, her battered and peeling pink and MiRi's own bright polished lime. She's hurtling through, pulling MiRi along and as she watched the elevator door slam shut she sinks to her knees right onto the carpeted floors of the elevator.

MiRi's alarmed, shaking her repeatedly in question. But Amber doesn't even register her words in her mind because her mind is filled with a single name.

Kim Tae-hyung

The baritone singer of BTS.

**Notes:**

**You can find me on AO3! I update with the BTS names, faster there! **

** tinyeyecat**

** my soulmates are idols**


	5. Chapter 5

When Amber finally decides to admit her sins the next morning, the hotel room was filled with crazed shrieking from one extremely excited MiRi.

"GOD AMBER! YOU'RE SO FREAKING LUCKY!" MiRi shrieked, jumping up and down on the bed. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU MET KIM TAEHYUNG, like THE V OF BTS? GOD! YOU LUCKY B*TCH! "

"I knowwww." Amber groaned, her voice trailing off into a sad little wail.

"AND," MiRi flips around, waving the hair curler in the air like a weapon, "instead of asking for an autograph or a picture...You ran like he was a demon after your soul?"

A nod from Amber sends MiRi into her signature 'I am disappointed in you' posture. Featuring a palm to her forehead, an exaggerated slouch and a long groan. She's shaking her head as she curls her red locks into natural waves. "My dear best friend of mine," MiRi's voice is deep and solemn. "What have I taught you all these years."

"Stop rubbing my dumb decisions into my wounds..." Amber wailed as she hooks on dangling strings of fake crystals to her ears, a one dollar earring steal from TaoBao.

She's looking pretty classy if she does say so herself. Her short pixie bob, a necessary decision after accidentally splashing her hair with resin, was not like the hair of other girls. For one, it didn't conceal the earrings at all, revealing them proudly and allowing the maximum amount of light to reflect off each cheap crystal bead.

To be honest, Amber had sobbed buckets from having to practically shave off her long locks. She has many insecurities. Her squared face with it's puffy cheeks, the tips of her ears that naturally turned upwards like that of an elf. The fact that her upper lip was slightly larger than the bottom one. The flat button-like squish of her little nose.

All of this was emphasized by the shortness of her hair, revealing everything and basically anything on her face.

Without her friends' praises and words of love, she would have never been so confident about her new look and now she rocks it like a champ.

Fate was kind to her, honestly, without these short locks, Taehyung would have immediately sent her to jail. Thank God the male race didn't differ that greatly from females.

"But that part about how his touch feels good...Are you sure it's not your 3 am horny brain messing with your mind?" MiRi breaks her out of her thoughts with a laugh. Amber hummed, pursing her lips and swathing on moisturizer.

Cold countries plus dry lips? Never do that to yourself. Never

"I actually have no clue. It was weird, kind of like being electrocuted? But in a warm way."

"A warm electrocution, very apt Ambs." MiRi laughed at that. "Maybe it's those really strong static charges. I get that in cold countries all the time."

"Well, girl." Amber sighed, flaring her nostrils and pressing lips into a thin line. "I don't know...It was just a very weird experience. I guess that's the closest I'll ever be to my idols." Amber huffed throwing her hands back in exasperation.

She swears it was more than that. The heated look in his eyes was a clear indication that he had felt it too and she wasn't crazy or delusional. Then again maybe Taehyung was just magical and had magical pleasurable hands.

It would totally explain why fans spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to get a spot in their fan meetings. Those hands were like drugs, happy drugs.

"Fans will kill for that chance. I seriously can't believe you're so lucky and with all the right reasons too! Although I wouldn't blame you if you sneaked into the boy's toilet after seeing Sieon walk in."

Amber whipped around to glance at her in alarm.

"I swear I will never do that! Haven't you read the news of crazy fans dressing up as males and heading into the toilets to see their idol's junk? That's literally sexual harassment."

"True, you're too much of a chicken for such a bold ass move."

Amber stuck her tongue out at her. That meanie.

"It's okay my dear best friend." MiRi smiled at her serenely. "With your luck, you might just see him again. If Taehyung was as informally dressed as you say, there's a 99% chance that they're staying in this very building and so there's an equally high chance we might bump into them!"

Amber smirked at that, standing to giver her bestie a twirl.

"Thoughts?"

"You look like a bright beam of sunshine." MiRi smacked her lips together appreciatively

Amber's dressed in a deep cadmium yellow turtleneck that draped across her neck, a warm and woollen fluffy thing that makes her want to shove her face into it and never come back. Then there's the usual faux velvet and leather jeggings, with thigh high boots.

Everything on her was a cheap imitation.

"Ready for your last day of freedom?" MiRi beams. The girl is in her usual simple outfits. A cargo green jacket, black shirt and dark blue jeans. It's simple fashion made striking by the red locks that cascade down her shoulders.

Amber smiled. This trip would definitely be the best in her entire life.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Their first stop is the Art Museum. It sits on the outskirts of the city that overlooks a stretch of tall towering trees, an hour drive from the hotel. This was the kind of place for budding new artists and gems in the rough. Not only did it display local works, but it also had an art store selling little trinkets and an entire level that sold affordable art pieces to the public.

It's clearly not as well known as the National Museum from the fact that there's barely anybody even though it's way past opening hours. She's surprised that it's this unpopular even on a Friday but Amber guesses that a good portion of their usual customers are busy camping out at the concert venue for BTS or are still slaving away at work.

MiRi had slipped away the minute they arrive, proclaiming it to be Amber's solo outing time and also MiRi's much needed time to prepare for her birthday surprise. She had handed Amber the museum ticket and sped off in her Porsche with promises of a late lunch.

The minute Amber steps into the museum, she's met with that distinctive museum scent that smells clean and cold. She would describe it as the rich smell of art, the hybrid scent of libraries, airports and museums combined. The entrance is lit by natural ambient light from the huge glass windows that line the walls and ceilings.

It's nice to just look at artworks without having to over analyse them although Amber's mind does automatically start to break down each work's formal qualities. The museum starts off with more traditional pieces that later morph into sculpture and new media art. Works you generally expect to see in an art museum.

What she had not expected was the large ultramarine blue cloud.

The minute she stepped into the large airy area, a delighted gasp had escaped her lips and echoed across the empty space. This was long pieces of bright cobalt blue plastic flaps suspended from the slanting steel structure of the museum. When placed together in such a dense cloud, the curtain of blue shimmered like rain under the light of the afternoon sun. The colour dances, shifting and flickering beautifully like soft summer rain.

It reminded her of Venezuelan artist, Jesus Rafael Soto's artwork "Penetrable".

A signboard at the head of the work confirms her suspicions. With a girlish giggle, something that rarely escapes her lips, Amber skips into the inviting stretch, pushing past the flaps of plastic.

It's even more beautiful inside the work. The light reminds her of the ocean floor, cutting through the artwork in waves of lighter blue shades and white hues. The shadows of the plastic cover her skin in blue intricate curls that paints her skin in ultramarines and Persian blues. It was a brilliant contrast to her cadmium yellow outfit. The colours complement each other.

Bright yellow to blue. Amber's pretty sure she must be standing out like a Yellow Tang. A cute saltwater fish that is a brilliant lemon yellow hue.

The plastic is silky on her skin and Amber finds herself closing her eyes, spreading her hands out to just let it all brush against her body as she moves across the fields of plastic. It's comforting, almost therapeutic to just run her fingers through the plastic. The light of the sun flickers across her eyelids translating into flashes of white under the red of her eyelids.

What she doesn't expect was for her to actually catch something in this endless sea of blue.

A very tall, very warm something.

If Amber has her way, the collision would be soft and beautiful. With Amber throwing her hands in the most effeminate of distress gestures as she presses gently onto the warm body. It would be a little floof that could be easily brushed off with a quick word of apology.

Too bad because gravity is a b*tch and Amber is a clumsy female with two left feet.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything happens so fast.

At first, she's just plastered cleanly onto the person. Her nose slamming painfully into the person's very hard, yet velvety chest, squishing painfully as her nose bridge screamed in protest. Her teeth had clinked together from the force, incisors sinking into her lips painfully she swears it almost breaks skin.

She would have been the only casualty if not for the fact her leg had stuck out to meet his huge incoming step. A collision of long limbs that sends legs into awkward turns of knees and outward flips of feet. They both trip over each other's feet, a tangle that sends him careening backwards and her shooting forward like a missile.

It's all a haze after that. Amber remembers the world spinning and she doesn't really know what happens except that when it finally comes to a stop, she's lying on the ground in the most embarrassing of positions she could almost just die.

Die in his arms.

Amber's head rests on his bicep. Her body is wrapped with his, legs entwined to straddle his upper thigh. This allows for her chest to be pressed to his, so close it's more than just a casual hug. Her left palm is pressed to his chest, while her other arm hanging loosely over his body. It's not even a friendly cuddle anymore.

This was limbs interlocked with limbs, bodies pressed against bodies. This was a lover's embrace in bed.

Amber has never hugged someone of the opposite sex. She's hugged girls all the time. Girl hugs were soft and warm with mounds of fat that would brush against her own. Girl hugs had the smell of sweet perfumes or feminine deodorants and the feeling of bra straps under her palms. Girl hugs featured long hair that tickled and brushed against her face.

The person she was hugging now was obviously a boy.

Amber's face flamed at the feeling, heat licking and creeping up her skin. This was wide shoulders and hard muscles that rippled under her skin. This was a flat chest and velvet wrapped over steel. This was large long limbs that towered over her smaller frame.

She's so close to him she's engulfed by this absolutely amazing smell.

It's clean.

Wrapped under that bubbly sweet scent of soap is a crisp clean scent that is even better than the museum's. It's definitely masculine. Amber's nose twitches linking it to the sweet burn of fresh snow after a hard trek up a mountain, a subtle tang of wine without the sour notes or maybe the aromatic bitterness of cocoa. A sophisticated natural scent that wafts from him in soft waves.

What is with Korea and great smelling man?

Amber's not too distracted by the smell at the moment because the very next second features a struggle as the both of them attempt to sit up only failing to do so when their legs protested at the double pressure of knees against knees.

With her small frame straddling his upper leg, it makes sense that his next course of action was to flip lanky legs over and push his body up in an attempt to shake her off.

The sudden movement was accompanied by her own frantic actions to push herself away from him only to fail as sharp painful tugs shoot across her left ear as she pulls. She has no choice but to follow his movements, laying on his body in an awkward yoga cobra pose and pressed to the flat and hard planes of a muscular chest.

Her head rests in the crook of his outer neck. Her breath escaping in short painful gasps at her every painful yank.

It doesn't take half a second for her to register the fact that her earring is very clearly stuck to something on his person and very near to his face. She does another experimental yank and a rumbled groan emits from him. The sound vibrates up her body, a delicious growl that sends a shiver running up her spine.

She's too flustered to really feel it at this point, her right hand trailing up to touch the cheap crystal hanging from her left lobe. She quickly finds that it interlaced with cool metal. A metal chain that is -Amber trails her fingers across the thick knot to reach soft cartilage and the feeling of silky hair under her fingers- his earring.

Damn it. How unlucky was she?

She cursed under her breath and it's instinct to wrap her arms around his neck to try to untangle the mess that was their earrings. His breath hitches at her touch and she stammers out an apology as she struggles to untangle.

"Our earrings are stuck. Sorry, give me a second." She murmurs lowly and it must have been her imagination because she thinks she could feel his body shiver at her words, his muscles tensing and flexing under her body.

She quickly realizes it's futile to even try to untangle the knots and resorts to just pulling out the stopper that attaches the cheap plastic to her ear. It gives way easily and she instinctively pressed her fingers to his chest to push herself up.

There's nothing much to look at. Honestly, 3 quarters of his face was covered up, even his hair was covered up. A black beanie conceals basically everything on his head, letting only short wisps of a dark blonde hair escape. The colour is too dark to be a proper blonde but too light to be a truly blonde hue. It's more of an ashy dark blonde colour, a shade she's pretty sure costs more than her entire bank account to dye.

His face is concealed by a black spongy mask that covers his lips and basically all of his nose. The only thing she could see beside his brows, well-threaded and thinner and longer than some, were his eyes. These were huge eyes. Monolids that curved in an almond shape that had a flatter base and were framed by thick but short lashes that curled outwards at the corners. It was almost fox-like in nature, all sharp at the edges.

What killed her the most were his pupils. They bored into hers deeply, rimmed with a light brown diamond shaped shards, clearly very expensive contacts. It's curious, his gaze. His eyes seemed to speak to her, glittering and shimmering under the light. They stared deeply into hers as if looking at her very soul.

She pursed her lips and her cheeks pink, eyes widening as she realizes the full extent of how intimate their position was. Their faces were mere inches apart, her chest pressed tightly onto his. Fingers pressed to the hard velvet of his chest, concealed by a thin and soft cotton fabric that bunched easily under her fingers.

She's very aware of how she's straddling his upper thigh when he moves his knees upwards, feeling his quadricep muscles pull under her ass. She lets out a small eep and her knees move to get up, pushing forward repeatedly without thinking as she struggles to somehow escape from this situation.

He inhales sharply and his pupils dilate, blowing wider into dark abysses as a soft groan escapes his hidden lips. His entire body freezes under her skin and it doesn't even take her more than a second to realize exactly what she did because…

His pants weren't exactly thick jeans. It's soft sweats, cotton-like material that hides nothing.

And there's something really hard pressing against her thinly covered knees. If she concentrates hard enough she could even make out the shape of the hard-

She pulls back, cheeks a flaming red and murmuring repeated apologies which he echoes back in his own stammers. She flops to the side, pulling tangled legs out from his and finally they both manage to stand. She stands up so quickly that blood rushes down from her head and her eyes green a little from the sudden loss of blood pressure.

Amber's so embarrassed she doesn't dare to look at him again. She bows quickly. 90 degree angled bows that make her back muscles protest. With her eyes almost teary with embarrassment she slides through the comforting plastic and away from the stunned boy, racing as fast as her legs could take her.

It's only when she bursts out of the museum and heads to an area that looks out to large oak trees that she lets out an embarrassed muffled scream.

Amber's pretty sure she just lost her knee virginity to another good smelling Asian male.

A Hot Asian male.

Amber let out another muffled wail into her palms, her face hot in her palms.

Why did this keep happening to her?

Her face crumpled as she fingered her very empty left lobe.

NOooooOOooooo

On the bright side, that thing cost her less than a dollar.


	7. Chapter 7

Kim Namjoon's lucky.

He still remembers the times when he was just a nameless rapper, yelling words into a battered old phone with the most horrendous of sound qualities as he reads off lyrics from a glitching computer.

He always fights with his family over his dreams.

They've wanted him to follow the family trend. His family were all top tiered workers. Lawyers, Surgeons, Politicians. His mom had not stopped working even after his conception, hiring a nanny to care for him.

The worst of his family when he was young had been his cousin's job as an accountant.

An accountant.

Namjoon really could not see why that was a bad job. Yet his cousin had been ridiculed, looked down on by the family and seen as the dirt on their leathered feet. They saw him as a failure, someone who would never earn as much money as them.

He's seen that cousin clenching his fists under the table as his aunties passed to him heavy envelopes like charity service.

That very same cousin had turned on him the minute he voiced his trainee status as a rapper and suddenly he was the black sheep of the family.

They were all workaholics that rolled in wealth and fame.

It's not like he lacked anything. Like the rest of his family, Namjoon was smart. His IQ, higher than the average citizen, was boosted by tuition from the best of centres. His childhood consisted of teachers and lessons on math and science. It was no wonder that the minute he stepped into official education he propelled upwards like a fighter jet in a competition for pigeons.

He remained the cream of the crop for the next decade of his life.

It was easy for him. Unlike the other students who started from rock bottom, he had always been afloat in the ocean of education, chilling on the inflatable bed above the waters as his classmates struggled to swim to the surface.

It's just too bad he was born smitten for the arts.

So when he decided to not head for university despite scoring a number so high in his entrance examination that basically every door was open to him, his family had recoiled like oil against water.

It's his mother's soft heart that had kept him from the streets. He was, after all, their only child. He's written a lot of songs about his feelings on the matter, countless scribbles and typed letters. Now with the success of BTS, he could diss and make fun of everyone who had criticized him for his actions.

He liked to curse at them with words like 'heartless money-making machines' or 'steel robots that painted themselves in gold but had hearts of dirt'.

It still hurts when his aunties made jabs at him for his lack of a soulmate.

On his 20th birthday, he had been all smiles. Heart racing with anticipation, stomach fluttering with butterflies, honestly it was just the tension of his stomach muscles, raised sensitivity from anxiety creates the feeling of fluttering. He had woken up to nothing. No soul bond. No weird mark on his skin.

Absolutely nothing.

There's nothing wrong with that. Not everyone gets their soul bond on their 20th birthday, it just meant his soul mate was someone younger than him. That's all.

Still, disappointment clung to him like a cloud as the years passed and he grew older. He tried to reason to himself, saying that fame would make it hard for relationships and he should be thankful for the time given to him to mature enough to be careful when he actually gets his soulmate.

As he aged, his relatives started whispering to each other. Namjoon lumps it to their jealousy for his success and fame. Their own bitterness led to envious jabs at him. They talked about how his failure in his career led to the fates deciding to not gift him with a soul mate of his own. About how he sinned on stage, a trickster who spun dreams for millions of women.

The harshest came from cousins of his age who laughed at his makeup and the rings on his ears. They called him a weak sissy. A gay f*cker with his pretty girly get-ups and use of beauty products. He had nothing against homosexuals. Still, the way they said it hurt. It hurt him like poison in his mind.

It's why Namjoon rarely wears earrings. He's not like Taehyung or Jimin who sometimes docks themselves in pearled earrings and jewelled necklaces. Namjoon sticks to simple hoops and more manly jewellery most of the time when he can.

He doesn't know why he wore metal chained earrings today.

It's a day before their concert.

It's nothing they've never done. Another world tour for their fans. Fans that he appreciates very much. He's nothing without them, nothing but a man screaming words that should mean nothing to anyone else except himself. He owes them everything.

Namjoon is famous. He's not a newbie to fame. He's been balls deep in it since he was 18 years old and it's been five years of hiding from crowds and paparazzi. Five years of masks and glasses, bodyguards and security.

He's used to it and frankly speaking he finds it endearing to be so dearly loved by so many. Still, stress eats at him at the thoughts of possible failure and disappointment. The need to live up to the expectations of his fans is a strong feeling that burns in his chest and so after a morning of rehearsals. He opts to head to an art museum during their short break for a breather.

Distress. He says. While his members take naps and distress in their own little ways, he gets a small army of bodyguards to follow him to the local art museum.

He melts into the work with strips of plastic. It's his personal favourite. The work swallows you whole and takes him to his quiet place where he can sit comfortably in his mind. He spends an hour in that work just stewing in his mind, contemplating about life.

He's a deep thinker and he likes to think by himself sometimes, tapping on his phone when lyric inspiration hits him. He was about to leave. It's another hour before they start rehearsals again.

He never expected to meet her.

Namjoon's tall. His legs were longer than most and he attributes it to the reason why he's clumsier than most so it's easy to trip over her feet. It's even easier to catch her small frame and pull her into his embrace to break her fall.

Namjoon is not a virgin. One night stands were things that came with curiosity and the lack of a soulmate. An angry night with too many bottles of alcohol had sent him into the embrace of another soulmate-less woman. The pleasure had brought him to more hookups.

It's a thing he does with the older members of BTS. Frankly speaking, the virgins in the team weren't the youngest member, Jungkook, the member was three years younger than him and had huge eyes that stared blankly into space. It was the reason why most believed him to be innocent. Still, Jungkook was not the virgin.

It's funny enough, the oldest, Jin and the media-proclaimed sexiest, Taehyung.

Jin refused to wet his dick in a hookup, only because he said he's abstained for so long he might as well keep it for his soulmate. That doesn't mean Jin's never obtained pleasure from a woman. Taehyung's the purest in the entire group. He's never touched a woman sexually despite being the best flirt. His only lover was his right hand. His reason?

He wanted his soulmate to be his first. Cute but kind of sad because he's three years pass his soulmate age and with no soulmark, insight, Namjoon wagers he'll have to wait a few more years before he can lose his virginity.

Now, with their rising popularity, it was much more difficult to find easy pleasure as they used to a few years back. If anything, the recent scandal where a prostitute had filmed a sleeping idol in bed confirmed their worries.

You could say that the sexual frustration in the group was at an all time high which would have been higher if not for the internet. Namjoon's computer in his personal studio had been attacked by thousands of viruses from all the porn sites he watched with them.

Honestly, Namjoon's thankful that all the members did not have their soulmates despite hitting the age pass 20. It's a bad thing to be thankful for but he thinks having a soulmate would drive a certain wedge between them.

They were brothers in everything but blood. Still, jealousy was a strong feeling that could tear the closest of bonds and he didn't want to try it any time soon.

The girl in his arms.

He hadn't even looked at her face. It's all just a soft warm body pressed tightly against his own, her breasts were warm mounds that radiated so much heat he could feel it even through so many layers of clothes.

Yet his body had clenched and shivered so violently with arousal he's never been so worked up in his entire life. He's more aroused than the bumbling 18-year-old virgin who was about to have sex, more heated than the first time he had seen his first porn video online. She had smelled wonderful.

He could smell the slightly bittersweet tang of coffee on her breath but her body emitted the most amazing natural scent. He felt woozy from just breathing it in, drunk from the delicious smell pressed up against his body.

It's a feminine sweetness that reminded him of apples with a musky undertone that's aromatic like crispy pie crust with little caramel chips. Really, it smells nothing like food but it's just the closest thing his mind can link it to.

It does not help when she makes those small little moans. It was probably from the pain or the frustration, but his mind immediately dives right into the gutter and refuses to surface.

Her soft breath had tickled the nape of his neck and when she spoke.

The sound just paints an even more lovely picture of the woman in his arms.

It's sweet and lower than most girls, it's not the high pitch ring he is used to hearing in Korean women. This was dark chocolate dripping from her lips. His abdomen had burned with a pleasurable fire that roared in his veins. His very male organ stirring and throbbing at her words, dripping wet in his boxers. A shot of pleasure raced up his skin and it takes basically all his muscles to stop himself from shivering too hard.

His heart has never beat so fast and so strongly when she sits back to finally look at him. Physical attraction wrecking through his mind like a tornado.

Her hair was short, so short it rivals his own. She looked nothing like the average Korean women and he could see the South East Asian characteristics in her features. Honestly, at first glance, she wasn't perfect. Her face is too squared for the society's preference, her nose while small was a little lacking in a nose bridge.

Her eyes, however, were the prettiest he had ever seen. Her lashes were so long it fanned onto her face every time she blinked framing heavily lidded eyes that had so many creases it gives her a more exotic look. Her lips trembled, rosy and pink and round like rosebuds. Eyebrows a little messy, the tiny hairs growing out in different angles which she styles into a nice angle.

A doll. His mind supplies as her cheeks reddened into a shade he's never seen on a human before. It does not help that her ears tip upwards like an elf's.

Namjoon colours at the thought.

A fairy. His mind suggests again as his eyes absorbed the colour contrast of the huge bright yellow turtleneck against the blue of the plastic. The colour was so vibrant it's like a photo card in real life.

It doesn't help that the single crystal earring hanging from her ears glinted and sparkled, reflecting light on her face and into her eyes. It turns black orbs into natural amber hues.

His mouth dries.

He wished he could snap a picture to make it last longer. He wished he could just freeze time right there and then and just…

Honestly, just make love to this work of art. God help him. Namjoon mentally groaned. He felt like a perverted lecher and he just met her.

He watched enraptured as her tongue flicks out to wet sticking lips. Then she does something unspeakable that kills whatever self-control he has.

Her knees rubbed against his crotch. The delicious friction sending spurts of pleasure up his body and forced his very horny male organ to harden painfully.

It takes all his willpower to stop the strangled moan from bubbling out of his throat. The educated moral citizen in him falters against the lust that surged across his very being.

Namjoon wants to die when he sees realization flicker across her face. Her cheeks had darkened to even more crimson hues as she finally realizes the trick to standing. He's dazed and she's fast. She disappears after three low bows, running through plastic and vanishing from view as quickly as she came.

The loss of the feeling of her body against his is like stepping out from a warmed room to meet the cold outside. It's an indescribable emptiness that he doesn't know inflicted him until she leaves. It takes seconds for his mind to run through a thousand reasons why he feels this way and when it settles on one it sends his feet racing out of the artwork to be greeted by an empty gallery space.

His eyes darted around frantically as he spins, his feet pacing through the maze of the gallery. He heads for the main entrance, his eyes flickering for the bright yellow. He searches for minutes, running pass artwork after artwork without a second glance, something he rarely does.

His mind screaming for that cadmium yellow.

When security comes to pick him up, bodyguards questioning his frantic movements he's rambling with questions. When they answer with words that feature 'no' and 'we didn't see a girl in yellow'. He's silent and disappointed as he climbs back into the car to take him back to the concert venue.

Namjoon is smart.

It doesn't take much for a genius like him to realize that the girl had been his soulmate.

His not-yet-20 soulmate.

And he had let her go just like that, running through his fingers.

He had her in his embrace so close to his body, they might as well have been lovers.

It's later when someone points out the crystal hanging from the chained earring that a smile finally flickers across his face.

He keeps it safe in his wallet, stored in the compartment right next to a picture of his parents.

He promises to himself he'll give it back to her when he actually meets her one day.

As an intelligent human being, he's definitely not in love. He barely knows the girl but Namjoon's very sure his body had fallen head over heels for her.


	8. Chapter 8

"Wow. Literally, every single time I leave you alone in Korea you're getting handsy with some boy." MiRi shakes her head, raising silver tongs into the air. "You know at first the word 'handsy' would have been literal? Now, you've gone and done it."

MiRi makes an exaggerated explosion sound with her lips, using her free hand to mimic that of a jet plane shooting through an air.

"Third base in one shot. You're going to reach home base at this rate, my girl."

"Oh my God. Stop." Amber groaned, jutting her bottom lip. "It was an accident! Accident!"

"A fantastic accident if you ask me." MiRi flips the pork belly on the grill. The fat pooling at its surface sizzles loudly as it touches the hot metal, emitting a rich meaty scent that travels to Amber's nose and elicits a growl of hunger from the depths of the bottomless pit she calls her stomach.

Fact 1: Dieting is near impossible in Korea.

"And done within an artwork? Damn. You're fulfilling fantasies us common folks would never even dream of being possible."

Amber decides to take the chance to down her shot glass of soju. It's not the industrial, mass-made stuff she's used to drinking. The cheap ones that smell like scorched sugar and tastes like cheap alcohol.

This was traditional soju. Smelling like ripe cherries and plum over a faint earthiness, this is a smooth sweetness that flows down her throat easily without the familiar burn of alcohol. It's chilled perfectly into an icy slush that melts slowly despite the burning heat of the grill.

Amber has lost count on the number of birthday presents MiRi has gifted to her, but this bottle of expensive soju is yet another one of her presents which they share over plates of Korean barbecue.

Is MiRi a sugar mommy?

Maybe.

Tip of the day: When you can't get yourself a rich husband, get yourself a rich best friend who likes to spoil you rotten.

"Was he hot?" MiRi asked. She plonks slabs of raw beef short ribs on to the grill and the fat bubbles and drips down into the crevices of the metal monster.

"Yes." Amber immediately blurts out without a thought. She swallows and laughs sheepishly. " To tell you the truth, I don't really know. He had on a mask and a hat. The only thing I could see was his eyes."

"Wow. Must be a hot pair of eyes." MiRi smirks, meeting her eye with a wink. Amber looks away, taking the chance to wrap a piece of pork belly, soaked in soybean paste with a dash of salt, in lettuce. She shoved it into her mouth, her cheeks bulging out obscenely as she chewed.

Her mind explodes as a symphony of flavours dance over her tongue. The monster in her belly howls in approval as it slobbers over chunks of meat that she swallows too fast. She's almost crying at the refreshing crunch of lettuce, the thick bites of juicy marbled meat and the thrum of salty sweet soybeans.

Almost. She bites back a moan as she hums happily, bouncing on her seat with each chew.

How divine.

"Stop giving me those orgasmic facial expressions and start giving me the juicy story, Amb!" MiRi's voice breaks her out of her thoughts. Amber looked at her pointedly then looked back at the grill. Her chopsticks snapped out to pierce into a slice of marinated beef which she stuffed into her mouth at breakneck speed.

She continued chewing happily, blatantly ignoring her BFF.

"Amber..."

Said girl pointed at her bulging cheeks and gives her best friend a closed eye smile.

"Are you kidding me? Your tactic now is to stuff your face so you don't have to talk to me?"

Amber nods. She's already spilled the bare minimum and her face was already flushed a brilliant red from embarrassment, any more and she might have a heart attack.

"Fine!" MiRi growls. "I'll just have to eat the meat quickly then!" The girl starts stuffing her face. Much to Amber's horror, she swipes up a huge piece of pork belly, soaks it in a generous amount of spicy soybean paste and shoves the whole chunk forcefully into her mouth.

Amber whined in protest, quickly dipping another piece into soybean paste and anchovy sauce. She stuffs the well-seasoned delicacy into her mouth with a huge wad of rice, scarfing it down like a Tasmanian devil who's not eaten for days.

It's only after another ten plates of meat do they stop and head back to the hotel, full and sleepy with a food coma.

Aside from the fiasco with earring dude, her day had been pretty good. She's visited the Art Museum, went out for some cheap retail therapy at factory outlets and gone to instagrammable places to take glam pictures.

Amber's sure the next day would be even better.

The minute they enter their hotel room, Amber calls first dibs on the shower in an attempt to escape MiRi's continued interrogation on her love life. By the time she's out of the toilet, skin glowing from the heat of the water and her hair a messy lump of wet strands, MiRi's too tired to bug her with questions stumbling right into the shower for a bath without so much of a peep.

Thank God for that. Retelling the story is basically reliving the story and Amber's already relived that story a thousand times in her head.

Amber steps out of the room, heading down to the convenience store located at the ground level of the hotel with a bounce on her step.

She wants a cold drink. Something sweet and refreshing. Her throat is parched from all that smoked meat, so dry that her tongue sticks to her mouth. It flops about like a fish out of water in the middle of the Sandy Saharan Desert.

Honestly, it's her fault.

She had blasted burning water over her skin, practically cooking herself in the shower, a mad attempt to burn away her lustful thoughts of the men she had just met that day. In hindsight, she should have frozen herself with ice water but she's not that keen on getting sick anytime soon.

The convenience store is bright. As a product of mass production and industrialisation, the store gleams in a myriad of colours from the thousands of shiny products. It's blinding to her tired eyes and it takes a while to adjust from the soft yellow glow of the hotel to the bright white fluorescent light of the store. The happy tune that plays doesn't really help in the transition and Amber feels as if she's stepped into another dimension.

The ambience, the key to a store's success.

She stalks past the dry food aisle, heading straight to the area emitting wafts of chilled air. She clamps her teeth together as her skin protests at the cold, goosebumps popping over peach coloured flesh. Amber sighed, averting her eyes quickly down to her chest.

She's not exactly properly dressed.

She has on a forest green long sleeve that's made of thick cotton fabric and a fleece jogger pants that hanged dangerously low on her hips, the strings lose from overuse. At first glance, she's generously covered.

No cleavage, no ass, no tummy.

But, Amber's not one to wear her bra to sleep. It's just uncomfortable as hell and the wires dig into her flesh leaving itchy red lines over her skin, which explains her current very obvious problem.

Shit.

Amber cursed seeing hints of pebbled nipples winking teasingly when she turns her body to face the light. She should have just flung on a jacket or maybe the hotel robe to conceal her braless state.

Gah!

She shakes her head, looking around to see if anyone had seen her staring at her boobs. Thankfully, it's late and the only other person in the store is the cashier who looks ready to pass out into his bed.

Amber hurries to grab the bottle of strawberry flavoured milk from it's pristine shelf. She hands the product with the money to the cashier, subconsciously hunching her body in an attempt to hide her nipples. The boy doesn't even notice, struggling to keep eyes open as he scans her item.

The minute the cashier hands her the drink and she heads off in long quick strides. As she steps out of the store, Amber fakes nonchalance peeling the aluminium covering over the drink to take a quick swig.

The liquid is sweet, dripping down her throat and her oesophagus in an icy cold spiral. While the drink tastes nothing like fresh strawberries and is definitely flavoured chemicals, the false sweetness is a personal favourite of hers. The flowery taste is something that makes her tongue flop about with joy.

Her legs settled into a familiar stride as she takes another huge gulp, lifting her head up to tilt the drink back.

A stupid move for the queen of disasters.

Her shoulder clips into someone and the shock from two colliding forces causes her to jerk forcefully sending a cascade of chemically flavoured milk dripping from her lips and all over her shirt. The sudden flash of icy cold causes her body to flinch violently and she splutters, spewing more drink from her lips like a fountain. She titters forward, her drink threatening to spill further.

"Aw f*ck. Sorry sorry!" The person who had slammed into her like a wrecking ball through a building holds her clumsy ass in place with his large hands.

They span across her hips. Warm and hot despite the layer of fabric between them. He let's go quickly after steadying her and the loss of that heat is almost...unpleasantly painful and she inhales sharply at the loss.

Amber swallows the rest of the milk in her mouth. The liquid is so close to going down the wrong pipe her throat constricts painfully and tears blur her vision. She blinked rapidly, her eyes dazed from the impact and her brain struggles to register what the hell had just happened.

She glanced up blurrily to see hints of long double lidded eyes staring at her from under orange tinted glasses. She has to squint to even make out the shape of his eyes, barely capable of seeing the dark pupils that bore down upon her.

There's nothing to see. The dude is covered from head to toe, his hair masked by a bucket hat, lips covered by a black mask and eyes concealed by orange-tinted sunglasses. Her eyes drifted down to his attire and Amber stifles a bark of laughter.

There's nothing wrong with his pyjamas. It's a simple enough stripped pattern, commonly seen in men young and old. It's the whole get up that makes her face contort into a constipated expression as she struggles to stop herself from laughing out loud.

This is a green camo printed jacket paired with blue striped pyjamas, bright orange glasses and dramatically concealed features.

If she were to give him a fashion award, she would call it the world's lousiest stalker.

At a closer look, she notices the wisps of curly orange locks that peaked out from the bucket hat. The same shade as Naruto's jumper. Some strands of his hair mirror the colour of his sunglasses and make everything even more out of place.

He does smell amazing though.

Amber mentally groaned. Yet another good smelling male. Was her body just that compatible with people from the general Korean population? Was she lacking in some gene that Korean Males had?

His is a stronger darker scent with sweeter notes that reminds her of tangerine juice. It's paired off with the spicy musk of black pepper and the woody burn of cedar. She inhales sharply, getting a lung full of refreshing masculinity and remembers exactly where she was.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Um, I'll get you another cup of milk?" The guy spluttered, muffled Korean words tumbling out of a covered mouth.

"Hehehe." Amber laughs awkwardly, shaking her head. "It's okay. I ate a lot anyway. No need to feed my fat ass with even more carbs."

"You're kidding, right? Fat?" The guy scoffs from under his mask. "Please! Where did you get that idea from?" Amber could almost see the peaks of a raised brow from the shadows of his bucket hat.

"My food baby?" Amber replies instinctively in a low drawl. "Maybe the fact that my waist isn't A4 sized?"

"Huh...A...4?" He tilts his head to the side, the peaks of his brows mash together. "Is that a trend?"

Amber's lips twitched into a sad smile.

"It's trending in China and clearly I've failed the test."

"Hmmm..Why degrade yourself to that piece of paper? **Every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top~**" There's a cheeky tone to his voice as he softly sings to the tune from Meghan Trainor. Amber doesn't expect the sound that escapes his lips. A shiver runs across her skin as she stares at the man before her.

His voice is cute, it's sweet and light-hearted, goofy and comedic. Under the initial sound is a low growly edge that differentiates his voice from being a cup of whip cream to a cup of frozen yoghurt.

It's smooth and creamy, but also tart and tangy. The initial sweetness is followed by the sour tang of citrus. The yoghurt explodes on the tongue and leaves behind chips of rock sugar to crunch and chew, leaving behind a mellow after taste.

Refreshing and familiar.

So very, very familiar.

Her mouth opens before she thinks.

"Does that mean you're an ass man?" Amber teased back, attacking with another line in the song softly. **"She says, boys like a little more booty to hold at night~"**

Her voice echoes around them, cutting into the soft music clear and steady. Amber knows her voice doesn't have the usual mezzo-soprano pitch that most girls would have. It's lower and could pass off for a boy's. It's precisely because of this that a jolt of fear shoots through her system after her solo debut. She's fearful that he might be disgusted by the sound

Her self-degrading thoughts were broken by a pleasant hum of approval and a reply.

"Hmm. Maybe." His voice lilts upwards and if she squints hard enough she can see that his eyes are curved into little rainbows of amusement. "You'll just have to find out yourself."

The last sentence comes out in a low seductive purr and Amber describes it as infusing orange zest, pomegranate molasses and roasted nuts into the depths of the creamy treat.

She swallows thickly. Her vision blurring out her surroundings. The soft music that her ears once registered now dulls into a low thrum at the back of her mind as she watches the man before her, intoxicated by his scent and his presence.

Or maybe it's just her mind doing tricks on her because he's so close to her that he's practically within her personal space and yet she doesn't feel an ounce of disgusted discomfort. Rather, she welcomes it and her heart is sent pounding under her skin, quickening at the burn of his concealed gaze.

Amber blinks, her mind finally registering his words. She coughs, feeling cheeks dusting into a bright pink. She flicks her tongue out to wet drying lips and subconsciously bites into the soft flesh.

"Uwu." She decides to reply. He freezes at the sound, his shoulders going stiff and then he's letting out a throaty laugh. He attempts to stifle it and the sound squeaks in his throat as he cuts off the air from his laughter.

It's bright and sunny. It reminds her of a baby's laughter in advertisements, the same repeated giggles. Only this wasn't kiddy or girly, this was a burst of deep laughter that comes straight from his diaphragm in waves that sends his body shaking from the force of each laugh.

His happiness consumes him, and it spreads outwards like a typhoon, infecting all in its wake.

"Did you just reply to me 'uwu' ?" He manages to say between laughs. "CUTE!" His laughter is so infectious, Amber can't help the bubbles of laughter from escaping her own lips. He inhales deeply through his laughter and when he opens his mouth again, his voice is loud and bright.

Familiar. Where has she heard this before?

"Let me buy you another cup of milk?" He bounces on the balls of his feet as he grows more and more excited. The hair that escapes from his hat bounces along with him, soft and wavy. "Chocolate? Strawberry again? Maybe banana flavoured? That's my favourite."

"Okay." Amber can't help but reply with a shy nod. She could see hints of his smile from the crinkle of his eyes. He chuckles and bolts towards the convenience store in quick strides not without turning back every so often to see if she were following him.

She follows him, re-entering the blinding store again and watches as he grabs two bottles of banana milk from the fridge.

"One for me and one for you." He replies sweetly, turning to look at her only to stiffen. His body freezes, muscles clamping into the same position for a second too long to be normal.

If this were an anime, this would be the animator's cue to draw him as a rock statue. Grey and marbled.

Amber blinked, her lips twitching downwards and her brows furrowing into a frown. Her head tilts in confusion as she searches his features for the reason. Eyes trying in vain to decipher exactly what he was looking at.

It's too bad because the bright lights of the store reflect against his orange shades making it even harder to decipher even the shapes of his eyes.

Did he forget his cash or something? Amber pursed her lips together.

She reached into her pocket, intending to pull out her wallet only to feel warm and soft fabric wrap around her shoulders in a soft hug. She glanced up, her breath hitching as he steps up so close to her she's made aware, yet again, of exactly how tall he is and how good he smells.

He places his jacket on her shoulders, gently pulling it close to cover her body. His scent envelops her, tangerines and cedar, and she resists the urge to bury her nose into the soft fabric.

"You look cold..." His voice is odd. While it's gentle and filled with that same teasing warmth, Amber notes the strain within them. It leaves her mouth oddly dry and sends her stomach into a hyperdrive of fluttering sensitivity.

It sounds as if he were breathless from an intense exercise or- if she were to indulge in her sick fantasies- if he's talking and getting blown by a girl at the same time.

He spins on his heels sharply, heading to the cashier to pay for their drink and she follows him curiously. Her lips pursed into a thin line at the tenseness of his shoulders, the stiffness of the muscle in his neck and the bulge of the edges of his cheeks that allude to clenched jaws.

He turns and she follows him out of the store, watching as he fiddled with a tiny straw piercing it into the aluminium cap.

"Here." He twists his body back to face her in a quick spin. "Drink up!" His voice loses that strain and is replaced by the familiar sunny, happy lilt.

Amber takes the bottle from him to sip at the drink as they walk towards the main lobby in slow languid strides. Maybe, he's sleepy? She mentally dispels the confusing thoughts, choosing to snuggle into the warmth of his very nice smelling, very soft jacket.

Damn. Could she buy it from him? She could make a profit selling Eau de Orange Man

"Thanks. Strawberry is my thing but one can't go wrong with banana." She tells him through sips. She sucks a little too hard and droplets of milk escape the crevices of her lips to spill down, she quickly licks it up with her tongue, taking her time to clean her lips which were sticky from residual milk. Amber winced the voice of her mother thunders within her mind.

DOES YOUR MOUTH HAVE HOLES?

Right thanks, Mom. My mouth is a hole. She mentally grumbles back. She glanced up to see good-smelling dude 3 staring at her, holding his own drink idly in his palms. She thinks he's seeing her or maybe he's not.

Honestly, Amber's not that sure at this point. He could possibly be staring blankly into space. She colours, feeling embarrassed.

Did he see her childish mistake? Oh crap. She clears her throat and laughs, trying to clear her name.

"I like the real thing more than the artificial flavouring. I eat it all the time for breakfast."

"Oh? Banana milkshake? Hmmm."

He sounds extremely out of it. Amber notes. His voice is far away within his head and his hum drags out a bit too long to just be a thought filler.

"I mean. I like it dipped in chocolate too. You know the ones at Japanese festivals? The kind that has rainbow sprinkles." Amber prattles on between sips. "It's like a popsicle!"

"P-Popsicle?"

"Uhhh or a lollipop."

"Lolli...pop." He mirrors her words, his voice growing soft. He chokes, coughing under his mask and Amber moves automatically to rubs his back in concern. "I'm fine. I-COUGH-choked on my saliva." He wheezes and when he finally gets it out of the wrong pipe. He gives a big sigh.

"I must look really stupid. " His voice is low, soft and super sad. Amber can almost hear the pout in his words.

"Noooo." Amber shakes her head quickly. "Relax, I choke on my saliva all the time. It's my hobby." In a mad attempt to make him feel better about himself Amber blurts out words she never expected to say.

Saliva choking. A HOBBY? She mentally bashes her head against a wall.

"Hobby?" He snorts.

"Um...talent?"

"Talent?" He's chuckling at this point, shoulders shaking. He's very obviously trying his best to hold back his laughter to be polite.

"Gah!" Amber groaned, pressing her empty palm on her face. God help her. " Just let me die in a ditch right now." Amber groaned. What the shit was she saying.

"Don't die." There's a tenderness to his voice that's just like dripping caramel sauce into a cup of yoghurt. "You're too cute to deprive someone of his soulmate."

His words send mixed feelings swirling in her mind. Feelings that she doesn't have time to clearly pinpoint and dissect because he's stammering and blushing furiously judging from the redness of his ears and neck.

"S-Sorry that was out of line from me. You must...already...have a soulmate-"

"I don't."

"Ah? Oh...Oh. You're waiting...too."

Amber doesn't know why his replies are heavy with growing disappointment.

"I'm not 20 yet." Amber raised a brow at him. "Still young, single and free."

"Oh!~"

It's almost hilarious how his next reply is kind of musical. Amber exhaled, lips spreading into a wide grin.

Flattering.

"You think it's me don't you, bad fashion ahjussi (uncle)" Amber teased, her voice dipping into a low drawl. Orange dude stiffens and laughs awkwardly trying to act like he doesn't know what she's talking about.

"Um..Hahaha. Wait, what? Bad fashion? Excuse me!" He rapidly tries to change the topic, frantically trying to dispel her suspicions.

"Mmm don't change the topic." Amber continues to tease, her grin growing wider and wider.

"How dare you call me an uncle, I'm only 25 you know! RUDE!" He teased back in a cutesy nasal baby voice. Oomph. He could pull off aegyo (Korean reference to a cute display of affection) well huh. Amber's kind of sad when they reach the corridor leading to her hotel room and the fact that he clearly has no intention in stopping speaks volumes of where he's sleeping.

Basically, at the other block of the hotel.

"Oh damn, I thought you were 23," Amber continued to tease. "Oh sorry, grandpa."

"YAH!"

Amber giggles. It's funny how Koreans use that instead of 'oi' or 'hey'.

Diversity at its finest.

Also, with the English context in her mind, it sounds like he's agreeing to her so it's kind of really amusing.

"Fine," Amber sighs, beaming up at him. "I'll let you off. Thanks for the drink and the jacket, mister." Amber stops, slipping the silky thing off her shoulders only for him to pull it gently back over her shoulders.

"Keep it."

"Huh?"

"Give it to me when we meet again."

"Oh? You sound very sure we will meet again." Amber raised a brow.

"I have 5 years of experience kid." He shrugs. "Besides, you look good in my clothes."

"Maybe...even better?" Amber teased.

"Wait, is that a jab at my fashion sense again?" He fakes a harrumph, folding his hands and tapping his foot comically. Amber bursts into peals of laughter. It's nothing that funny but something about his presence just makes her want to smile.

There's a moment of comfortable silence as she just basks in his presence, staring at his face. Under the glow of the nearby lamp, she can finally see almond-shaped eyes that curve upwards into moons of happiness.

His gaze, while obscured by orange, is warm and tender. It makes her heart feel drippy as if he were melting her very soul.

The ding of the elevator's arrival break them out of their moment and Amber is frantically clambering into the lift. She presses the button that leads to her floor only to be stopped by his voice.

"What's your name?" He called.

"Oh!" Amber's embarrassed. They've spent half an hour together but she's not given him her name. "Ambrosia. You?"

"Hose-"

The elevator slams close before he finishes his words and Amber frowned feeling a little disheartened.

Damn.

What a cockblock.


	9. Chapter 9

On D-days, Seokjin needs coffee.

He usually spends the night before lying wide awake in bed just thinking about the millions of ways he could screw up on stage.

His mind is creative.

Sometimes it's thoughts about his pants (and underwear) splitting open in midst of hip thrusts, effectively flashing his fans and soiling his reputation forever. Other times it's about him tripping and accidentally stabbing himself with the microphone stand. Both highly impossible situations but still worthy enough to worry about.

The scarier ones were realistic fears. The kind like burping in the middle of singing, voice cracks, forgetting steps, messing up lyrics or accidentally injuring the other members. Those mistakes happen so often yet the tears that ensue

The possibilities were endless and so it takes a bit more effort to sleep.

In the past, he used to have soulmate fears. Fears like experiencing a body exchange mid-song, maybe a voice switch or a sight swap while he's singing. Those fears were never just about the tightness in the chest, the bellyaches, the dizziness and the chills.

It's mixed with excitement, the kind that thrums across his skin in waves of hope and longing.

A few years ago, he used to complain about it to his members. 'What if my soulmate appears on stage instead of me?' He would say. 'What would you do?' They would come up with thousands of stupid suggestions which they would laugh over right before the concert.

Seokjin doesn't do it anymore.

None of them do.

With their youngest, Jungkook, already passing the one year mark it's clear that he would face a similar fate as the rest of his hyungs(older brothers).

The staff tells them that they are lucky. Fate has given them the chance to focus on their careers without any distractions.

Their managers say they should be thankful that they don't have to deal with a screaming kid when they go home. Their bosses laugh and urge them to enjoy their singlehood as much as they can. Their fellow dancers tell them the years would give them time to earn money to support a future family. The makeup artists tell them their future soulmate would appreciate their wisdom and the wait would translate into an appreciation that not many would have.

To Seokjin, lucky is the wrong word to use.

His mother had passed away when he was 16. It is a common story, an age-old tale that starts with the creation of vehicles. Every day, 28 people die as a result of drunk driving. His beautiful mother had been one of the 28 on a nice summer day where the sun shines even when it rains.

It used to be his favourite kind of days. He likes it when the sun hits those beads of falling water creating tiny flecks of light in the landscape.

Now it's not.

Time is short. His father would say. Appreciate your soulmate while you still can. Love them, cherish them and protect them. Seokjin vowed that he would. He swore it on his mother's grave and had promised her repeatedly as a child when she used to tell him that the only woman he could love more than her was his soulmate.

It's probably why he converted from being the type of guy to run from kissing scenes in movies to one that squeals over cute romantic comedies.

Seokjin is a romantic and he's fascinated with the idea of soulmates.

It's why it had hurt a lot when no soulmark was there to greet him on his 20th birthday.

Each day is a disappointment. A piece of barb wire forced into his heart that twists with each passing day. It's a hammer to the glass of his heart which shatters with each swing until all that's left were smithereens.

Seokjin no longer goes to bed each night bursting with hope. He's numb from the disappointment.

They all were

Most of them were way past their prime.

Soulmarks are common. The average person learns that he/she has a soulmate at 20 years old. Those without soul marks usually figure out that they do have a soulmate within the span of six months. Any more and you're in the rare 10% of the population who has no clue what the f*ck is going on.

Seokjin's waited six years.

At this point, the chances of his soulmate being dead is much higher than the chances that his soulmate is an unfertilized egg.

He's pretty much one foot into the population of forever-singles.

He buries himself in work as a distraction. His motto is 'If he has no soulmate, his fans will then be his soulmate.' Seokjin's not the flirtiest but he's the most loving. At fan meets he treats every fan with the same amount of tenderness that he would have given to his own soulmate.

It's also why he hates visiting his brother or basically any other friend outside of BTS. At his age, his peers were well into the relationship, most preparing for marriage or already married and with a child. Everything is a painful reminder of what he does not have.

The members talk about it sometimes.

On most days, Seokjin jokes and laughs about it. On bad days he sits with Yoongi and just cries and cries about the unfairness of life which, according to Yoongi, is a great way to gain inspiration for song lyrics, because the best music is the ones born out of pain and sorrow.

That dumb shit was just using him to write song lyrics.

It's kind of really sad but his best solo single, which has topped charts and garnered a hundred million views on Youtube is a song called Love Myself.

Their fans think it's about self-appreciation.

His members know it's really about him being salty about having no soulmate.

Seokjin needs coffee. Without it, he's a sad, depressing mess that's nothing like his usual self.

Seokjin steps into the hotel's restaurant in search for coffee from the free breakfast that comes with their rooms. On concert days, the members don't eat from the hotel breakfast. Their meals are catered and specifically picked to prevent any bad accidents that involve the orifices of their body. While the quality of the buffet breakfast is ensured due to the high rating of the hotel, one could never be too careful.

But Seokjin decides to break some rules. It's too early to get the staff members to go out for a coffee run, with most of them still asleep or busy getting ready and the members are banned from leaving the safety of the hotel.

Dressed in skinny jeans and a simple black t-shirt, he's slipped on a pair of sunglasses and a black mask to hide his identity. Thankfully, there's barely anyone in the restaurant and he gets to sit quietly by himself, sipping on coffee while he watches the sun rise higher up in the sky.

He daydreams for a bit, zoning out a few times.

He doesn't notice her until he finishes his cup of coffee and sits up, ready to leave. Frankly speaking, it's hard not to notice.

She's sparkling.

Seated directly in the light of the morning sun, the soft rays of light danced over her skin, trailing its long fingers over her collarbone. It illuminates half of her face, highlighting the length of her eyelashes and the dip of her cute little nose.

She would look like a pixie if not for the generous swell of her breast, barely concealed by the slim short-sleeved chiffon. The V-neck exposes her collar bone and the soft pink of her skin.

Seokjin doesn't know he has a thing for collarbones but he definitely knows now.

He would have continued to wax on poetically about her looks if not for her sudden actions. She had reached towards her plate, small slender fingers picking up a slice of toast with-Seokjin squints for a better look-mango and avocado? Huh.

He watched, transfixed as she takes her time to pick up a lemon slice and squeeze it over the mango generously. She then picks it up, gently placing it on her tongue and takes a small dainty bite of bread.

If you told Seokjin that he would one day see a slow-motion food advertisement in real life, he would have laughed in your face.

She's chewing slowly and with each bite, her face melts into a bliss that Seokjin has only seen in porn videos. Her eyes were fluttering, fanning thick and long lashes across pinked cheeks and her rosebud shaped lips, crimson red and plump, parts slowly, making a small 'o' shape.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Seokjin's mind is in overdrive but he can't break his gaze away, heat shoots across his body, burning his body and lighting a fire in his groin. His mouth is dry as it parts to hang open in a dazed shock.

Maybe it's just his imagination, but Seokjin swears her eyes rolled back into her head and her head tilts backwards just a little. It doesn't help that she hums, pressing those cute lips together. Her throat bobbing up and down as she swallows.

The killer move was when a bead of mango juice spills from the corner of her lips. The little pink muscle that darts out, licking at the spilt liquid before retreating is enough to send his heart beating so hard it almost hurts to breath.

He's never seen someone eat so sensually. It must be a crime. A crimecrimecrimecrimeCRIME-

He instinctively slaps a hand to his covered lips, as he bends down to give a muffled scream. His face is hot. It's so hot he's dizzy from the heat, from the hormones, from everything. His dick is so hard, it's f*cking weeping in his pants. It's drenching his underwear making it stick to his skin and it feels like he's peed his pants.

Precum, the enemy of all men.

GOD.

Seokjin is 26.

He's a virgin but he's tasted the pleasures of the adult world.

To put it simply, his dick has been sucked before.

Of course, it had been amazing. Of course, he had been blushing. Of course, he came in like 3 minutes during his first time. But, he's never blushed this badly before.

This was uncharted waters for a virgin like him.

HELP.

Seokjin is scared. He's so scared because he knows that he must. He MUST talk to her. It's now or never. Seize the opportunity his mother would say. Seize the f*cking opportunity, Kim Seokjin!

Pulling his shirt as far down as it possibly can go to cover his erection, Seokjin somehow manages to make it stand in front of the girl and when he's right before her his mind blanks. It's flooded with the colour of her eyes under the sun. They're copper against honey, they're sunlight through a bottle of malt whisky, they're caramel cocoa, they're honey tea and coffee. They're the flecks of sand on the beach in his hometown, they're the syrup on his pancakes. They're-

"Do you want me?" Her voice is beautiful. It's low and like dark chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. Rainbow sprinkles because Seokjin loves rainbow sprinkles.

Seokjin jumps at her words. Wait w-what? His heart is pounding in his head, the blood rushing through his system at an even faster rate than when he's doing high cardio exercise.

"Avocado, mango toast?" She points to her plate and at the slices of mangoes.

Oh. Seokjin gulps. He must have autocorrected 'it' to 'me' in his mind.

"Um! Yes, please?" He chirps out without thinking. His voice is weird it's oddly high. She smiles and Seokjin swears it's rainbows and sunshine, sparkles and unicorns.

F*ck he's going crazy.

She gently picks up a slice of toast with a napkin, buttering it generously, and spreading thick layers of avocado over the crispy bread. She then piles layers of ripe yellow mango on top of the creamy green and squeezes a lemon slice over her creation.

The whole time, Seokjin's just openly staring at her face with rapt amazement. His mind shuts down and his body is just consumed.

Consumed by her.

Consumed by everything.

So pretty.

"Here!" She raises the bread and he takes it quickly from her stammering his thanks. A waft of sweet feminine fragrance spills from her as he steps close to her body to take the slice. It takes everything for him to not just bury his head into her neck and inhale.

HELPHELPHELP.

"Don't drink coffee on an empty stomach...You could get indigestion!" She chides softly.

"Y-you were looking at me?" Seokjin blushes. Oh, did she notice his staring?

"It's hard not to notice when you're wearing sunglasses and a mask indoors."

"Ah…"

"Oh no but I don't judge! You must be-" Seokjin flinched. Did she know who he was? "-sick?"

Yes, he was sick. Sick with desire.

"Get well soon!" She blushed prettily. The colour dusts over her cheeks, a faint pink glow that reminds Seokjin of cotton candy.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket and he flinches. Crap, that must be his manager.

"I have to go...Thank You."

"No problem, um, good luck for today!"

Does she know? At this point, Seokjin isn't sure if his cover is blown or not but she's so nice his heart swells with a weird warmth that he doesn't understand.

"Ah! You too!"

It's later in the van to the venue that he gets scolded by his manager. Even though they insist that he throws the bread away he refuses and eats the whole thing in one bite before the other members could steal it from him.

It's good.

The juicy tart mango cuts through the richness of the avocado and the juiciness compliment the creaminess well. The lemon keeps the sweetness in check, turning it into a sophisticated flavour that just makes him yearn for more.

His expression must have shown how good it tasted because his members were glaring daggers at him for not sharing.

It's later at the venue that he stays in the bathroom for way too long to be normal. Seokjin lies and chalks it up to a bad stomach which the other members laugh and tease at him about, telling him it served him right for eating the bread.

Seokjin will never admit that he had been jerking off to the memory of the girl in the restaurant.

Never.

He's taking that secret to the grave.

**Notes:**

**For faster updates...Find the original on-**

**WATTPAD**

** tinyeyecat my soulmates are idols**


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